


The Art of Being Human

by sapphire_child



Series: The Art of Being Human [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Episode AU: s03e08-09 Human Nature/Family of Blood, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Explicit Sex, Rose is not John Smith's maid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:57:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human Nature/Family of Bloody AU. It is the autumn of 1913 and Rose has found herself the wife of a man who doesn’t really exist. Between the fear that she may truly learn to love John and the ever present knowledge of his true identity, Rose is forced to re-evaluate both her life and loves. And all the while the Family of Blood draws nearer to their prey...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on my livejournal [here](http://sapphire-child.livejournal.com/253686.html) and now I'm archiving it here as a back up because it's probably one of my proudest writing achievements.

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/36942879650/in/album-72157686374544840/)

 

 _Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,_  
_Could ever hear by tale or history,_  
 _The course of true love never did run smooth;_  
\- A Midsummer Nights Dream

 

He was late.

Not that this should’ve come as any great surprise to Rose – John simply had no sense of time. Since they had arrived here just over two weeks ago she had gotten in the habit of getting up early so that she could take tea with him before his first class started. The only problem was that he was more often than not late, caught up in one thing or another whilst she was left waiting and wondering.

Today however the small clock on the mantelpiece was edging alarmingly close towards eight o’clock and Rose was getting decidedly anxious. She was supposed to be looking after him. Well, keeping an eye on him. Okay so really she was meant to be keeping him hidden from a bunch of vicious alien life forms of some kind that were trying to hunt him down but honestly, it sounded more than a bit pretentious not to mention plain bonkers when you put it like that.

The thing was, if he didn’t make it for their morning cup of tea then she wouldn’t get to see him until they supped together in the evening and that was far too long for him to be out of sight for her liking. Not that it was his fault – his teaching schedule was still so frantic that he often marked his student’s papers during lunch and then stayed up late at night to organise lesson plans.

Rose hadn’t much liked playing second banana to his new and rather unexpected teaching career, but after close to two weeks she had finally managed to settle herself into a routine that was somewhat satisfactory. It was merely an unfortunate fact that John didn’t seem to understand the importance of time management.

Much like somebody else she knew Rose thought grimly and rearranged the tea tray for the twentieth time, sighing loudly as she glanced up at the clock again.

He was forever running late or forgetting things altogether and Rose couldn’t help but worry about him. It was annoying, having to baby him like this. Smoothing down the fabric in her skirt compulsively, she had just decided to start brewing her own cup of tea whilst she waited for him when there came a light tapping at the door.

“Come in.” she called and a moment later John peeked around the edge of the door, the tassel on his hat swinging and a hesitant smile on his lips. Rose smiled and stood to greet him. “Hello.”

“Good morning.” he said leaving the door only very slightly ajar as he joined her, offering her a soft kiss in greeting which she accepted with hastily learned familiarity.

“Tea?” she offered, already knowing that he would accept.

“Oh yes please.” he said gratefully as he took the unoccupied chair across from her. “I’ll have to be quick though.” He warned. “No idle chatter this morning or I’ll be late for class I’m afraid.”

“No problems.” Rose said, adding two sugars to his cup and stirring it carefully before passing it to him. “Who’ve you got this morning?”

“Thank you. Oh just my usual rowdy Monday morning lot.” John sighed as he nursed his cup and saucer carefully. “I do wish that Master Hammond wouldn’t insist on interrupting. I loathe using the cane on him – blasted thing gives me blisters.”

Rose sipped her hot tea carefully and then rested it back on the saucer.

“Maybe you shouldn’t use it then?” she suggested and John chuckled.

“Unfortunately my dear the only thing that many of these boys respond to is a good strong rap across the knuckles.”

Rose shifted uncomfortably in her chair, an argument on the tip of her tongue but thankfully John saved her from having to bite back any inappropriate words she may or may not have been thinking about the subject of caning students by asking her what she was planning to do for the day.

“I’ll probably borrow Professor Ratcliff’s bicycle again.” she said dully, then lied. “Maybe go into the village. Depends if Matron wants any help or not. And how messy the library is.”

“Oh well a bicycle ride sounds lovely.” John said cheerfully over the rim of his cup. “It should be a nice day for it too – it looks quite pleasant out. Just mind you don’t lose your way like last week. You gave me quite a turn when you didn’t return in time for supper...”

“I didn’t get _lost_.” Rose said, affronted. “I just...lost track of time that’s all.”

“Ah, well that is certainly a feeling that I am all too familiar with I’m afraid.” John admitted with a bashful smile. “I must be imprinting my bad behaviours onto you. I do apologise.”

Rose smiled indulgently at his teasing. “Yeah somehow I doubt that. Out of you and me I’m the one with the bad mouth.”

John’s lips twitched. “Quite.”

For a while the only sound was that of the two of them sipping carefully at their tea in the pensive silence. Rose was just half-heartedly searching for something to say to him when...

“Oh!” he said suddenly, voice thick as he swallowed a particularly large gulp of tea. “I almost forgot to tell you. I had the most remarkable dream last night...”

Rose set her cup down as he spoke and was just settling in to listen resignedly to what would no doubt be a long and rambling recollection of some kind when she chanced a look at the clock on the mantel.

“Half past!” she gasped, interrupting the beginnings of his story. “You’re going to be late!”

John startled, glanced over his shoulder at the clock and then leapt to his feet, spilling his tea in his haste. “Oh!” he said, flustered. “I’m so sorry...”

“S’alright.” Rose quickly took the china out of his hands before he did something daft like go and drop it. “Go on, you go to class. I’ll take care of this.”

“So sorry...” John was muttering as he dithered on the spot, pulling out his pocket handkerchief and blotting at the mess he had made. “Goodness but I can be so clumsy...”

“S’fine.” Rose insisted, laughing at him even as she shepherded him gently but forcibly towards the door. “Really. S’just a bit of spilt tea John, nothing to cry over.”

John still looked upset so in order to placate him she leant up onto tiptoe and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Go teach.” she told him firmly, putting both her hands firmly against his chest to accentuate her point. “Behave yourself yeah? And I’ll see you at supper tonight.”

Giving up on apologies for now and looking somewhat appeased and a little pink in the cheeks after her kiss, John straightened his mortarboard and drew his black teaching robes a little tighter around himself.

“I will. And enjoy your book shelving. And your bicycle ride.” he took her hand in his and Rose bit her lip, trying not to smile at what she knew was coming next. Pressing his lips briefly to the back of her hand he chanced a look up at her from beneath his brows.

The gesture combined with the tentative eye contact prompted a small series of flips from her stomach that Rose quickly tamped down with a vapid smile. He couldn’t help the fact that he looked so adorable when he kissed her hand – even if she thought it was old fashioned and more than a little bit corny.

“Mrs Smith.” He murmured against her skin.

“Mr Smith.” she returned primly and then retreated to her doorway to watch him stride down the hallway. His long tan coat had long since been replaced by black teaching robes but if she didn’t look too closely then she could almost believe that it hadn’t, that the Doctor was still here with her and...

Sighing to herself, Rose shut the door and turned her back on it.


	2. Chapter One

Rose left the Farringham School for Boys at approximately 10:37 in the morning, bicycle easily procured and TARDIS key tucked safely down the neck of her blouse. Within ten minutes of setting out on her journey however she was cursing the bicycles wobbly front wheel, her long and impractical skirt and...well anything else that came to mind really.  
  
She hated setting out so late but the headmaster had lingered in the library this morning so instead of her usual slipshod job of re-shelving she’d had to take her time and look like she was actually working. Thankfully the Matron was busy with one of the boys (he’d splashed ink in his eye) and everything else was in order so Rose gladly skittered back to her room for gloves and scarf and then headed out on her borrowed bicycle at a breakneck pace to make up for lost time.  
  
Her impatience however, soon proved to be more of a hindrance more than a help. The bicycle was old and rickety, and with all the mud and puddles on the road she was finding it hard to keep from crashing. Her shoes also had little grip on the soles which resulted in her feet slipping off the pedals with alarming regularity. This combination of course eventually culminated in Rose careering straight into a hedge, yelling the whole way.  
  
After she had ascertained that all of her limbs were still intact and she hadn’t accidentally skewered herself on any errant branches, Rose extricated herself carefully from out of the foliage. She then set about removing the bike as well, grumbling loudly when it refused to yield.  
  
“Stupid...!” she kicked at it half heartedly, missed and nearly fell over. Taking to pulling at it again, she finally heaved with such strength that she nearly fell over again when it popped free of the branches it had become ensnared by. “This,” she muttered as she smoothed leaves and twigs out of her hair. “Is _not_ what I imagined when you said ‘anywhere in the universe, any time any place’.” She rattled the bicycle until the front wheel sat straight once again and then, grimly satisfied, Rose continued with her rant. “Stuck in 1913 – no hairdryer, no makeup...” kicking one leg over the frame, she hoisted herself up onto the seat and arranged her skirts irritably. “...Stupid skirts, stupid bloomers, stupid stockings...oh yes it’s a lovely day to go out exploring the English countryside. _Charming_.”  
  
She huffed to herself once before setting off again. After apple scented grass and bottomless pits, rolling green hills and muddy fields surrounded by picket fences weren’t exactly her idea of a thrilling landscape. In fact, this trip had failed to bring _any_ sort of excitement into Rose’s rather exceptional style of living – except of course for the Doctor’s sudden transformation into a human.  
  
Because that’s what he had become – a real human man with the Doctors face. Never in her wildest imaginings had Rose foreseen a day when the Doctor could pull the rug out from under her so completely. The very fact that he even _had_ the technology to change one species into another made Rose’s head boggle but after watching the Doctor strapping the Chameleon Arch onto his head and...  
  
Trying to fight down a shudder at that particular memory she turned her thoughts instead to what had happened afterwards. The TARDIS had landed them inside a barn of some sort and Rose was left with the task of dragging the still unconscious Doctor and some meagre belongings outside to wait for him to wake up.  
  
Despite their weight, the suitcases weren’t all that hard to get outside, but the Doctor was next to impossible. His legs and arms went everywhere when she tried to pick him up and he was also surprisingly heavy despite his slender frame. By the time Rose managed to get him outside (having accidentally run him into a fair few walls and doorframes on the way) she was puffing from the exertion and all but dumped him on the ground, wincing guiltily as she did so.  
  
“Sorry.” she apologised to his unconscious form, wincing again as she noticed that she’d managed to land him with one foot in a puddle and the bottom of his trouser leg was soaked through. “You’re not making this easy for me though. Arms and legs goin’ everywhere...” she sighed and crouched down beside him, rearranging him as comfortably as she could before touching a gentle hand to his cheek. He didn’t stir and after a while she took to stroking his hair instead, pushing the more adventurous strands back from his forehead.  
  
“S’funny.” she said quietly when she ran out of hair to tidy and instead moved to gently thumb a sideburn. “You still look like you.”  
  
At her words – as if on cue – he began to stir and then let out a loud groan. Rose jumped back but then crowded in on him again, worried that he was hurt.  
  
“You alright D-” she only just stopped herself before she blurted out his name. “Hello? Um...are you alright?”  
  
The Doctor – the human Doctor that is – blinked up at her in confusion and when he finally managed to focus on her face he gave her a small, bemused smile. “Hello?”  
  
“Hello!” she said eagerly, relieved beyond belief. “It’s me. It’s Rose. D’you recognise me?”  
  
“Rose...” he echoed blankly and she knew a moment of true terror before comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Rose. Yes. Of course.”  
  
“Thank god!” Rose beamed and helped him to sit up, relief making her giddy. “How d’you feel? Alright?”  
  
He frowned and put a hand to the side of his head. “I’m...not certain. What happened?”  
  
“We had an accident.” Rose explained, just like he had told her. It wasn’t entirely untrue after all, they’d been shot at and the TARDIS had made an emergency landing and everything. “Do you remember?”  
  
The human Doctor nodded slowly and then screwed up his face suddenly. “My...head...”  
  
“You just rest yeah?” Rose said quickly. “Gotta take care of yourself.”  
  
“No, no, no...” the human Doctor began to moan. “I can’t rest, I have to get to school on time! I can’t be late! Rose...” he reached out blindly for her, his grip like iron. “Rose you have to help me get to school!”  
  
Rose shrank back from him, trying to release his grip finger at a time. “Alright! Calm down, I’ll help you get to school yeah? Promise.”  
  
But the human Doctor wasn’t soothed. He began to babble and groan, telling her again and again that he had to get to school on time, he couldn’t be late. Putting his confusion and disorientation down to the dramatic transformation his body had just undertaken, Rose convinced him to sit and watch their bags while she went for help.  
  
She retreated quickly, trying to shake off the feeling of his fingers gripping her wrist. The Doctor had never used overt physical force with her unless it was absolutely necessary but she’d taken one or two blows from Jimmy back in the day and the sensory memory was still enough to make her stomach turn. Her palms were actually sweating a little as she followed the rough path that went by the barn and she wiped them hastily on her skirt as she emerged from the path and onto a proper road.  
  
Well, it was really more of a country laneway, but still.  
  
To her complete amazement, an old fashioned car came trundling up the lane towards her almost immediately. It was the sort of lucky coincidence that only happened in movies but Rose was hardly complaining. She flagged the astonished driver down and when he pulled up alongside she asked if she and her companion could hitch a ride.  
  
After his initial shock he was all too happy to oblige them. The man introduced himself as Frederick Yale (Freddie to his friends) and revealed that he was driving a crate of new text books down to Farringham for the new school term that was about to start. Rose didn’t know what Farringham was but she was willing to bet that it was the school the Doctor had been burbling on about. The alien – or rather man – in question still looked a bit pale and dazed so Rose enlisted Freddie’s help to haul their suitcases and her companion both into the car.  
  
“Blimey how’d you two end up out here all by yerselves?” Freddie asked, amazed. “Nothing out here but fields o’ sheep.”  
  
“We had an accident.” Rose explained. “I think he hit his head on something.”  
  
_And his right hip,_ she added silently. _And probably his arms and legs a couple of times too._  
  
“You’d best get the Matron to take a lookit him when you get in then.” Freddie said, peering back at the Doctor worriedly. “He don’t look so good.”  
  
Rose chanced a look at the human Doctor. “I might ride in the back with him.” she decided but warned him as she got in. “Don’t you go and get sick on me. I don’t fancy cleaning it off this dress. And not any of the books either yeah?” she added hastily.  
  
Despite his ashen pallor, the human Doctor managed a weak smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
  
Under other circumstances Rose would no doubt have been delighted by the prospect of getting to take a road trip in such a quaint, old fashioned vehicle. The Doctor seemed to have an uncanny ability to make any experience a romp, but without him she found herself unable to enjoy any part of the experience.  
  
For one, having become accustomed to the TARDIS’s deceptively large interior, Rose felt intensely claustrophobic crammed into the back of Freddie’s little car. However, ensconced as she was in miles of petticoats and a tightly laced corset, hedged in on all sides by books, she could do little but sit stiffly and keep an eye on her pale and rather dazed charge.  
  
She did her best not to flat out stare at him as they bumped along the road, but in such a small vehicle there was precious little else she could look at. The truth of the matter was that she was more than a little bit creeped out by him – he just looked plain funny out of his usual pinstripes and bubbly personality. Dressed in tweed and sporting a shirt with a rounded collar that seemed far too soft against his jaw he barely glanced at her for most of the journey.  
  
He was so uncharacteristically quiet and unlike himself that Rose’s uneasiness slowly began to evolve into anxiety. She wasn’t altogether uncertain that he hadn’t caused himself lasting damage by using the Chameleon Arch and she wasn’t exactly qualified to take care of him if his brain decided to rupture or haemorrhage or anything like that.  
  
Her anxiety mounted. After being chased and shot at, the horrible procedure he had undertaken to change himself and then a frantic trip to the wardrobe (the TARDIS had helped of course, but the extravagant dresses she had picked out for Rose went with corsets made of real whalebone – and she’d never had to lace herself into one of _those_ without any help before) not to mention the added complications of dressing an unconscious Doctor into a new suit before they could even properly begin their journey...well Rose was still feeling a teensy bit on edge.  
  
In contrast, the man beside her was so calm that Rose desperately wanted to yell at him – just to get a rise out of him. Only hours before he had been her Doctor – bouncing around the TARDIS console pushing his hands through his hair and babbling at a million miles an hour. Now he was utterly still and she found herself feeling...well, lonely.  
  
God, it couldn’t have even been an hour yet and already she missed the Doctor. How sad was that?  
  
Finally giving up on covetous little glances, Rose cleared her throat loudly and stared directly at him, hoping that he might notice and strike up a conversation with her. It took him a moment to realise that her attentions were directed towards him, but when he did, the human Doctor came out of his reverie and smiled easily at her.  
  
“Oh. Hello.” he said and as he continued to speak she noticed for the first time (now that he was speaking normally and not babbling and groaning) that his voice had actually changed a little. “So sorry. I must have drifted off.”  
  
He smiled apologetically and Rose regarded him a little uneasily. He still had a similar accent but his words were spoken with more care – like he’d actually paused to think about them before opening his gob. His vowels were slightly rounder as well, his diction slightly more pronounced than usual.  
  
She didn’t like it.  
  
“Are you...” Rose lost her thread of thought when she saw the softly quizzical look on his face. This was too bizarre. Absurdly, it reminded her of what he had been like when Cassandra had possessed him in New Earth. He just felt so _wrong_. “Are you feeling any better?”  
  
“Oh yes. Much better.” he told her happily and now that Rose was looking at him a little closer she could see the healthy flush on his cheekbones. “The main thing of course is that we are both alright.”  
  
“Yeah.” Rose agreed, then grumbled. “Wonder how much further we’ve got to go? Feels like we’ve been in this car forever.”  
  
“Try not to fret.” he said soothingly, reaching across a pile of books to pat her hand. His skin was a lot warmer than usual and Rose felt an uncertain flutter in her chest at his touch. “We should be there soon.”  
  
“Thank god for that...” she muttered.  
  
“Rose.” he said somewhat reprovingly, taking his hand from hers. Rose looked at him, startled by his tone. “I know you don’t mean anything by it,” he continued. “But I would rather you not take the Lords name in vain.”  
  
“Sorry. Right.” Rose said awkwardly. “On my best behaviour then. No blaspheming.”  
  
And she crossed herself clumsily.  
  
To her surprise, he chuckled and then reached back across the seat to press a tender hand against her cheek. “My wild girl.” he said fondly. Unused to him touching her in such a way, Rose smiled back hesitantly and was just beginning to feel a soft blush touch her cheeks when the car came to a rather sudden stop. “We’re here!” the human Doctor clambered out immediately and traipsed around to offer Rose his hand to help her out of the car.  
  
She gladly took it, having quickly realised that her attire was going to make it very difficult for her to exit the automobile with any amount of style. As it was she stumbled slightly against him and found herself being propped up in his arms. “Are you alright?” he asked and Rose righted herself awkwardly so as to free herself from his embrace.  
  
“Yeah. These stupid skirts.” she laughed weakly and straightened herself out awkwardly. Having grown up in a world of jeans and t-shirts Rose knew she wasn’t always entirely graceful when she wore clothing like this. Not that she hadn’t worn grand outfits before throughout her travels but apparently she was in hats and gloves territory now and she felt more than a little overwhelmed by the multitudes of tiny buttons and vast expanses of fabric.  
  
In addition to her voluminous underthings and a ridiculous pair of ankle boots that she was certain were going to result in a rolled ankle, she wore a high collared blouse that was so lacy even her grandmother would have sneered at it and a full length navy pinstriped skirt that went with a beautifully tailored travelling jacket. At least her hat was fairly sedate – although why she had to wear a hat at all in weather like this she didn’t know.  
  
All in all her outfit was about as comfortable as lying on a bed of nails in a strait jacket three sizes too small but Rose wasn’t about to tell him any of that. Instead she took the arm he offered to her, mainly out of habit, and together they took in the grand buildings of their new home as the driver set about removing their luggage from the car.  
  
“The Farringham School for Boys.” the human Doctor said proudly.  
  
“That’s a school?” Rose eyed the buildings with a little more interest. “It’s so big! Like a castle or something, all those turrets and things. What is it – like a boarding school or something?”  
  
“It is.” The human Doctor told her. “And a very fine school too. I think that we will be very happy here.”  
  
“Yeah.” Rose agreed, privately sighing to herself. She had never really enjoyed school anyway, but to actually _live_ in one? It was like one of her nightmares come to life.  
  
“That’s all your bags sir.” Freddie said, brushing his hands off. “Mind you tell the headmaster about these books too before the next lot of rain comes in.”  
  
“Of course.” the human Doctor said. “Thank you so much for all your help Frederick. It is most appreciated.”  
  
Freddie tipped his cap to them both and then clambered back inside his car. As soon as he began to head back down the muddy road from where they had just come, Rose moved towards their suitcases but was drawn away by a light touch at her elbow.  
  
“The servants will collect our luggage.” the human Doctor said, looking at her strangely. “Come along.”  
  
Still arm in arm they made their way into the school. With a seemingly impeccable sense of direction, the human Doctor led them straight into the main entrance where a bespectacled man wearing black teaching robes and a mortarboard was making his way down the stairs towards them.  
  
“Good afternoon.” he smiled curtly as he descended. “I presume that you are my new history teacher?”  
  
“I am. Good afternoon to you sir.” the human Doctor said cordially, extending his hand. “Professor John Smith at your service sir.”  
  
Rose took a mental note of his alias whilst doing her best not to roll her eyes at it. The TARDIS seemed to be just as uncreative as the Doctor was at choosing false identities.  
  
“A pleasure.” the man shook John’s hand. “Edward Rocastle. Headmaster.” Turning briefly to Rose he affected a look of mild surprise. “And who might I ask is the lovely young lady who is accompanying you?”  
  
Rose paused, suddenly feeling a little apprehensive at what was to come next. She knew that the TARDIS had created a back story for the Doctor that she would then have to integrate herself into, but thus far John hadn’t been able to give her much of an indication as to just who he thought she was.  
  
Truthfully, the way he was acting towards her wasn’t so far removed from normal. He still seemed warm and relatively affectionate, just with less hand holding and hugging. And less flirting. But then, judging the approximate date of their apparel she hadn’t been expecting such playful affections from him anyway.  
  
Rose knew first hand that most periods in history when women wore corsets and men favoured bracers and tweed didn’t really lend themselves to the sort of jovial antics she and the Doctor got up to. More than once she had been caught out in a time period by doing (or wearing) something inappropriate. Their meeting with Queen Victoria came to mind and she tried not to smile at the memory.  
  
Speaking of memories, she hoped that she wasn’t going to have to be his maid or servant or something – and she had no intentions of being anything remotely close to a dinner lady or a waitress again. Maybe she could be his teaching assistant? Not that she knew anything much about teaching but still. The only other option she could think of was that she could feign being a distant cousin – they were too dissimilar in appearance to claim a closer genetic bond than that.  
  
“Ah!” John smiled broadly and drew her forward so that Rocastle could better see her. “Headmaster this is Rose. My wife.”  
  
At this Rose choked loudly and both men turned to her in vague alarm.  
  
“Rose?” John said, concern puckering his features as she gawped up at him. “Are you quite alright?”  
  
“I-” Rose choked out, swallowing her shock as quickly as she could. It would not do to arouse suspicion this early on in the piece. She was supposed to integrate herself into his storyline and look after him until it was safe – not argue with him and get herself into trouble. “I think I just...swallowed a fly!” she lied, wincing as her voice shot up both in volume and pitch. “Sorry.”  
  
“How...horrible.” Rocastle said. His tone was nothing short of condescending and Rose itched with the want to smack the smug expression off his face. “I’ll dispatch one of the kitchen boys to carry your belongings inside. Unfortunately I shall have to organise a temporary residence for Mrs Smith until such time as we can accommodate her in your lodgings. I am afraid we were not expecting you to bring your wife...”  
  
“Wife!” Rose muttered under her breath but neither man heard her as they were now talking together and all but ignoring her. “Blimey!”  
  
That wasn’t the only surprise in store for Rose however. The headmaster gave them the rest of the day to settle in but first thing in the morning he called John to his office. While he was there Rose stole up to his room and hid the pocket watch in plain sight, laying it carefully on the mantelpiece so that she would instantly know if he misplaced it. Pleased with herself, she was just considering doing a bit of exploring when she bumped into the Matron on the stairs.  
  
Nurse Redfern wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but she was well spoken – a proper lady Jackie would have said. Having met her the day before when she’d gone with John to make sure that he wasn’t concussed after their accident, Rose had felt the need to plum up her accent a little, an ultimately tiresome exercise that had bemused John no end.  
  
“Oh Mrs Smith, there you are.” The Matron said, relief evident in her voice. “The headmaster has sent for you.”  
  
“Me?” Rose said blankly. “What for?”  
  
As it turned out, because Rose had to have her own room until they could move her in with John, she also had to do something to earn her keep because his salary wouldn’t be enough to cover both of their lodgings.  
  
John was horribly embarrassed by the whole thing but Rose was more worried that she didn’t have any skills that would be useful in a place like this. Because of their social status, the headmaster explained that he couldn’t possibly make her work alongside the maids and cooks and Rose rejoiced briefly until he assigned her the dual duties of tidying the common library and helping the Matron when she needed an extra pair of hands.  
  
At first Rose was more than a little uncertain about her competence in both roles. She’d never even entertained a _whim_ of becoming a librarian or a nurse, not even as a little girl. Thankfully the library was relatively small due to most of the Professors having their own private libraries in their lodgings, so all she really had to do was make sure that everything stayed vaguely alphabetised and in the right section. Similarly, Matron Redfern was a very competent woman and honestly didn’t need much help. Rose mainly ended up running errands for her, stocking up on peroxide or picking up packages of medical supplies from the post office in the village.  
  
In between book re-shelving and the endless rolling of bandages, Rose stole away as often as she could in order to explore the school and its surrounds. In these wanderings she discovered (amongst other things) that all of the teachers stationed at Farringham were men, and although they clearly thought themselves well educated and proper, she caught almost all of them eyeing her up at one time or another.  
  
She also found out that the only female companionship to be found other than Matron was in the maids and other serving staff. Unfortunately they were too much in awe of her extravagant wardrobe to even dare speak to her beyond “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” and Rose was glad when September came, term started and the school was flooded with students. Rose was introduced along with the other staff as the new librarian and assistant nurse, prompting smirks and leering from the older boys and more than a few star struck expressions from the younger ones.  
  
“The boys are quite used to me by now,” Matron Redfern explained later as they rolled (more) bandages together, her voice matter of fact. “But I can imagine they’re quite excited to have a beautiful young woman working here for once.”  
  
Rose blushed at that but later when she observed her reflection there was no denying that in her new wardrobe she looked a lot more...well, feminine than she did in her usual kit. It made her feel less self conscious about her lack of makeup when she had her hair pinned up and her waist cinched in tight by her corset.  
  
And so school term began and with it, Rose’s librarian and nursing duties – such as it was. She worried at first that they might inhibit her ability to keep an eye on John but thankfully he was so busy with classes to prepare for and teach that he could get up to very little mischief that she didn’t know about. Not that he was badly behaved – on the contrary, John was very polite, especially in comparison to the Doctor. He was continually correcting her grammar or – even worse – her table manners with a mildly exasperated, if fond air.  
  
Rose also discovered in those early days that although John was prone to stammer when he became flustered, he did not babble in the same way as the Doctor. He was also quite reserved in terms of physical affection, limiting most of their physical contact to chaste kisses in private and taking her arm if they were under public scrutiny.  
  
The arm linking thing she could cope with but Rose wasn’t entirely comfortable with the kisses that John bestowed upon her. Not that she was about to start complaining about it. Cover stories aside, she really quite enjoyed it. Chaste or not, they were certainly more than she could have expected from the Doctor.  
  
So truthfully, it wasn’t really a _bad_ situation. A bit boring maybe but Rose consoled herself with the fact that at least they weren’t being held hostage or getting shot at. By getting her library duties out of the way first thing then quickly checking if Matron needed anything (which she quite often didn’t) she could usually make a trip down to the TARDIS before lunchtime. When it was wet she would usually loll about in the library instead, searching amongst the leather bound tomes for something she could read without having to look up every second word in the dictionary.  
  
Today was fine, which meant that by feigning a trip to the village she could sneak down to the TARDIS and maybe even pick up a few more blouses and skirts – she was fast ruining all of her belongings in the mud and rain, especially her shoes. She had hoped that riding the bicycle instead of walking would stop her from wrecking her possessions, but having not ridden one since she was thirteen (and certainly not with a petticoat on) she found herself spending the majority of her time trying to stop the bike from going into hedges or splashing through mud puddles.  
  
Coming to a clumsy halt, Rose clambered off the bicycle and leant it up against the outside of the rarely used stone barn that she had walked out of for the first time several weeks ago. Pushing open the heavy door she crept inside and pulled her soft kid gloves off before shutting the barn door firmly behind her. After ascertaining that she was truly alone she reached into her blouse and fished out her key to the TARDIS.  
  
The familiar blue box was waiting for her in the back corner the same way she had been every other day that Rose had come. The time ship hummed quietly as she unlocked the door and slipped inside, careful not to catch the heel of her boots in the grating or the hem of her skirt in the door.  
  
“Hello.” Rose said softly, hitching up her many skirts as she trod carefully up the ramp and reached out to caress the console. “How are you?”  
  
The TARDIS’ hum undulated slightly, almost becoming a purr of welcoming and Rose smiled fondly at her. She stroked the time rotor gently, but the sight of the plain silver band on her left hand suddenly caught her gaze and she paused for a moment to stare at the foreign piece of jewellery.  
  
On her first proper day as Rose Smith she had taken her first trip to the TARDIS while John read up on some great and historic battle after lunch. In truth she thought he was trying to avoid her after the embarrassing meeting they’d had with the headmaster about his salary but no matter how many times she told him she didn’t care about having to work he merely hunched a little further over his book.  
  
Eventually she had given up on cajoling him out of his sulk and decided instead to take a walk to the TARDIS. To her surprise she had found two perfectly simple and perfectly sized wedding bands resting on the console, waiting for her. The ship had hummed nonchalantly even as Rose rolled her eyes and slipped the smaller of the two onto the correct finger.  
  
“Right. Thanks a lot.” she’d muttered as she pocketed the slightly larger band destined for John’s finger. “You know, you could’ve given me the rings before you dumped us here. At least then I could’ve figured out that I was meant to be his wife. Y’know, _before_ he sprang it on me.”  
  
The resulting hum from the TARDIS had been almost apologetic and Rose hadn’t had the heart to bring it up again – especially when the ship had showed her how to bring up a recording that the Doctor had left her. At first she had been extremely excited but in the end it turned out to be nothing more exciting than instructions on how to take care of his human self.  
  
After her initial disappointment, Rose forced herself to put a positive spin on the situation. Even though the Doctor was gone, she still had something to remind herself of him. It soon became a ritual for her when she came down to the TARDIS to play the message through several times. If she sat very still with her eyes closed and just focused on the timbre of his voice then she could almost – _almost_ – imagine that he was there in the console room with her.  
  
The TARDIS nudged her mind sympathetically as Rose replayed the message four, five times before coming to sit on the jump seat where she had left his tan overcoat the day before. Stroking the stitching around the buttonholes, she merely sat there, wistful and longing, her mind full of the melancholy of the time ship as well as her own.  
  
It had only been two weeks since they had landed in 1913 and already Rose missed the Doctor more than she could put into words. Not that it was John’s fault. He was nothing if not sweet – if a little absent minded. He treated her well and was attentive to her needs but she was just _itching_ to be travelling again. She was unaccustomed to sitting still for so long – least of all with a pale substitute in place of the man she...  
  
Well he was an alien really, not a man at all but that was beside the point.  
  
“...and twenty seven.” the message was drawing to a close for the fourth time now. “If anything goes wrong – if they find us...well, you know what to do Rose. You’ll have to open the watch. Everything I am is kept safe in there. Now, don’t forget that I’ve put a perception filter on it so the human me won’t think it’s anything special, to him it’s just a watch. But! Don’t open it unless you absolutely have to because once you do that then the Family will be able to find me. It’s all up to you, Rose. Your choice. I know you’ll make the right one.”  
  
On the recording, the Doctor stood up and then abruptly back down again. Rose paused it just as he opened his mouth to deliver his final words. She knew how it ended and she didn’t particularly want to hear him thanking her yet again. Instead she reached out to touch the image on the display. The beginnings of a grateful smile were just touching his lips, his dark eyes crinkling earnestly at the corners.  
  
“I miss you.” she miserably told the frozen image of the Doctor on the screen before she cut her eyes away. Circling the console she absently picked up her mobile and checked for messages. She had been tempted on more than one occasion since they’d gotten stuck here to ring her mother – if nothing else then for someone she could talk to about all this. But what on earth would she tell her?  
  
_Hi mum. Yeah I’m good. Oh just stuck in 1913. Yeah the Doctor’s somehow managed to turn himself into a human who thinks his name is John and that I’m his wife. Mental right? So how’s the weather?_  
  
Rose sighed and discarded her phone. The idea of having a conversation with her mother between one century and the next about her matrimonial issues with the Doctor was not something that she wanted to endure. Not that John was really the Doctor but still.  
  
When she finally left the TARDIS many hours (and quite a few more playbacks of the recording) later, Rose was shocked to discover that the afternoon was waning and she had to hurry to make it back to the school in time to clean herself up and take supper with John.  
  
“Did you get lost again?” he enquired mildly, after greeting her with a brief kiss.  
  
“Just lost track of time.” she shrugged as she settled herself down, rearranging her skirts, barely even noticing that John was fumbling with something on his supper tray.  
  
The something turned out to be a delicate, peach coloured rosebud that he offered to her with a somewhat nervous flourish.  
  
“A rose for my Rose.” he said, smiling at her like such an adorable dork that Rose couldn’t help but grin back at him as she took it.  
  
“That’s a terrible joke.” she told him and John smiled his usual reserved, closed mouth smile. It was as though he felt it were indecent to bare his teeth in a full blown grin. Very unlike the Doctor. He had a _fantastic_ smile. Rose felt her own lips twitch at the memory of it.  
  
“Perhaps.” John conceded. “But you’re still smiling.”  
  
His teeth peeked out just slightly, a shadow of the Doctor ghosting across his expression but just as Rose opened her mouth to return his banter, she suddenly remembered who she was actually talking to and she instantly clamped her mouth shut and fell into an uncertain silence. Sensing her sudden discomfort, John’s smile faltered and then dropped completely. “Rose? Is something the matter?”  
  
“No it’s nothing.” she lied, deliberately picking up her dessert fork in an effort to distract him. “This is for the main course right?”  
  
John sighed good-naturedly and leant forward to help her. “I don’t know what sort of manners your mother taught you when you were growing up. Did you not own cutlery?”  
  
“Not as many sets as this.” Rose admitted. “Mum never saw the point of using more than one lot unless it was Christmas or something special.”  
  
John looked on the verge of saying something and Rose held her breath for the insult she knew wouldn’t come. “Well that one in your hand is the dessert fork.” He said finally, pointing out the individual pieces of silver as he spoke. “It’s quite simple really – all you’ve got to do start from the outside and work inwards. The larger fork for the main meal and the smaller for dessert, you see?”  
  
“Right.” Rose said with as much seriousness as she could muster. “Outside to in. Got it. And the round spoon’s for soup yeah?”  
  
As John continued to instruct her on cutlery and then began to move on to crockery and glassware, Rose tuned out a little, listening to the timbre of his voice instead of the words. Somewhere, she mused quietly to herself, the Doctor must still be lurking inside this man. Although at first glance they were physically identical it was the warm skin and single heartbeat that really gave the game away. Rose was altogether too accustomed to the slightly cooler touch and double thump-thump of the Doctor’s binary vascular system, just as she was used to his innate rudeness, his playful energy, his superior Time Lord arrogance, his rare moments of quiet...  
  
“...Rose, are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”  
  
“Hmm?” startled, Rose came out of her reverie and blushed when she saw John’s downtrodden expression. “Sorry.” she apologised. “Must’ve drifted off. I was just thinking about...stuff. Cutlery. And things.”  
  
She trailed off awkwardly.  
  
John didn’t look entirely convinced by her lie but he picked up his soup spoon nevertheless. “Shall we?”  
  
They ate in silence, Rose watching John’s impeccable table manners and waiting in vain for him to start licking the plate. Or fold his napkin into an origami hat. Something daft and Doctorish.  
  
He didn’t. And her disappointment only grew when he walked her back to her room and kissed her goodnight with wishes for her to have pleasant dreams.  
  
“You too.” she returned dully and he smiled down at her and walked away, hands clasped behind his back and head bowed in thought.  
  
Rose watched him go with an unexplainable sense of weariness. She’d never realised just how draining sitting still could be without the Doctor. She felt lazy and tired, irritable with herself for being stuck in a rut. But, she reassured herself, they weren’t going to be here for much longer really. Three months? It was nothing. She could do this – she could wait for the Doctor. She had things to occupy herself with, she had a roof over her head and a warm fire in the hearth and a nice man to take supper with (even if he didn’t slurp his soup or play with his food).  
  
Grimly resolved, Rose shut her door and began to prepare herself for bed. She just had to make the most of things while the Doctor wasn’t around, she told herself sternly. She just had to hold out for a little while and then...yes. She could do this.  
  
She could wait for him.


	3. Chapter Two

The more Rose got to know John Smith, the more unlike the Doctor he seemed. Not only was he a lot more reserved than the Doctor, John also had a romantic side that came as somewhat of a surprise. After the first fortnight passed in a flurry of beginning-of-term-bother, the students and staff alike settled down into something of a rhythm and now that he had more free time on his hands, John began to seek Rose’s company more and more.

The drizzling, depressing weather continued into late September but, being a resourceful man, John was not swayed by a spot of rain. Instead he invited her up to his rooms where he would read to her from loquacious tomes full of run on sentences. Rose tried her utmost best to concentrate on the stories but John had a penchant for Charles Dickens that was painfully reminiscent of her first Doctor. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she had long ago been forced to read Dickens at school and after slogging her way through two and a half odious chapters of _David Copperfield_ , she had chucked it in the bin.

Rose found that listening to his novels was almost as dull as reading them. She felt bad for nodding off mid chapter when John was reading (especially having met Dickens in real life some forty odd years ago in Cardiff) but she just couldn’t help herself. After she fell asleep during the dramatic conclusion of the second book in _Hard Times_ however, John finally gave up on Dickens and instead extracted what must have been the only book written by a woman in the whole school.

At first he seemed rather embarrassed that he had in his possession a novel by one of the Brontë sisters, but Rose had never read _Wuthering Heights_ before and John was nothing short of delighted when she resituated herself on the couch so that she could lean up against him and read along with him.

“‘My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods’.” his careful voice brushed across the shell of her ear as he spoke and Rose curled herself a little closer against him and shut her eyes. The Doctor had read aloud to her before, the two of them curled up in the TARDIS library like cats – but he tended to favour alien philosophers and classic science fiction novels, not Victorian romances. “‘Time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath – a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind – not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.’”

Here he paused and presently Rose felt his hand against her hair.

“John?” she opened her eyes and struggled to sit up properly, corset creaking slightly. “Are you going to finish...?”

“Later perhaps.” he said softly and she froze as he cupped her cheek and then leant forward to kiss her, soft.

At first she allowed it, her arms awkwardly stiff by her sides, but as soon as she felt his hands move from her face to take her softly but firmly by the waist, Rose broke away and shifted back on the couch.

“Um...” she said, not quite daring to meet his eyes. “I have to um...um...library! I’ll be back later!”

And she bolted.

John was bewildered by her sudden flight and told her as such at supper that evening. Having had a whole afternoon to review her behaviour and realise that he probably thought that she’d been quite rude, Rose felt obliged to sit close to him when he read a little more to her after they’d eaten. When one of the maids came to collect their tea tray however, she took the distraction as an opportunity to escape back to her own room before John could so much as give her a kiss goodnight.

Rose prayed and prayed that night for the bad weather to break but the next day it was just as rainy and it didn’t let up for a whole week, restricting Rose’s visits to the TARDIS unless she wanted to get completely soaked. As she grew more and more bored with her own company, Rose became torn between wanting to spend time with John and having to then think up new excuses to leave when he grew too amorous for comfort.

It was almost a laughable situation. If it had been the Doctor she would have most likely been thrilled to bits. But it wasn’t the Doctor and as far as Rose was concerned, a bit of kissing was one thing but as soon as John’s hands began to wander she tended to go into somewhat of a panic. He wasn’t exactly forceful but she still remembered with great clarity what his hands had felt like, gripping her wrists like shackles as he demanded she take him to the school so many weeks ago.

The memory frightened her.

Whilst with the Doctor she felt safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t hurt her just because he’d gotten carried away with something so base and primal as a human sex drive (she wasn’t even sure if he _had_ those sorts of instincts as a Time Lord). But John was very much human and definitely male. It was in his body language, in his actions towards her – he wanted her.

The problem was that _she_ didn’t want _him_.

Whether he was supposed to be her husband or not the very thought of engaging in any sort of physical intimacy with this strange man terrified her in a way that sex never had before. Not that she didn’t have desires, certainly she did. And having somebody kissing and touching and adoring her all the time certainly fuelled those feelings. But being a person who set great store by her emotions Rose just couldn’t give herself away to another man while she still felt the way she did about the Doctor. Especially not when she knew he would be coming back – and soon.

For John’s sake she tried to gloss over her real motives but every time she refused to kiss him or let him hold her he became hurt and confused. In the end, Rose felt so guilty that she interrupted John’s recitation of a rather ridiculous 18th century love poem with her own lengthy and somewhat tearful monologue about being too nervous and distracted by the thought of somebody walking in on them.

This was not altogether too far from the truth. John often had unexpected visitors drop in – teachers who wanted to chat, students who were looking to borrow books or get help with their work, the maids who brought his meals or came in to dust and tidy... Reluctantly, he accepted that her words held a lot of truth in them and after he had lamented their lack of a shared bed he decided that until such time as they could share his rooms properly, they would just have to struggle on and make do.

As luck would have it, after a week of rain the weather segued into a cool but relatively dry stretch which meant that outings were a lot easier to co-ordinate. Although John taught every weekday and Sundays were mainly taken up with the pomp and circumstance of church, the change in weather was enough to have him all but banging at her door whenever he had a spare five minutes, asking her to accompany him on walks to the village or, alternatively, to a nearby field which was ideal for picnics.

Kissing incidents aside, Rose had enjoyed the quiet companionship of their earlier engagements but she definitely found herself more at ease when they were in the village together. Although her (frankly rather extravagant) wardrobe garnered envious looks from the villagers, it at least meant that John was more reserved in his affection for her.

The picnics were a slightly different arrangement. Out in the fields, sometimes with a bottle of wine, they would often nap the afternoon away, John bestowing the occasional soft kiss upon her and Rose teasing him about drinking irresponsibly. After her obvious anxiety over his physical advances he became gentler in his persistence. Rose was equally gentle in her coyness around him and before she was truly aware of it, she realised that he had actually begun to court her in earnest.

Despite herself, Rose liked the attention and was generally quite delighted by the small and surprising gifts he bestowed upon her. He showered her with trinkets he bought in the village and regularly offered her smaller handmade tokens as well – a dainty posy of flowers or a sketch he had drawn. Nobody had ever truly romanced her before and she had to admit, it was very flattering and often quite surprising. She was particularly taken aback when one day he presented her with a beautiful writing set and a rather exquisite fountain pen.

“I thought perhaps you could write home to your mother.” John explained with his strange, closed mouth smile. “No doubt she will be missing you.”

“I’m sure she isn’t.” Rose lied, laughing hollowly. John laughed quietly with her, not grasping the irony in her words.

“Her only daughter? Of course she will be missing you. I know that if I were ever so far away from you then I would be missing you terribly.”

He was so impossibly earnest that Rose blushed right down to the roots of her hair which, in the absence of a friendly hairdryer, had begun to soften into waves. Thankfully peroxide wasn’t too hard to get hold of so she had been able to keep her regrowth somewhat in check but Rose wasn’t sure whether cosmetics in 1913 still had lead in them or not and she didn’t much fancy finding out.

Also the TARDIS had hidden her own make up. _Including_ her favourite mascara which had made her hopping mad when she’d first realised. Apparently twenty first century cosmetics had no place in this time period and no matter how hard she hunted for them, the TARDIS refused to yield where she had stashed them. What with that, her curly hair and her old fashioned clothes, Rose was finding it difficult to recognise herself in the mirror anymore.

John at least didn’t seem to care about her lack of make-up. On more than one instance she had caught him looking at her with a glazed expression on his face and when she had demanded to know why he was staring, he had simply stated that she was too beautiful. (Then again, he also had a habit of going off into little trances when he was looking at clocks for some weird reason so really she shouldn’t have been as flattered by his staring as she was.)

The point was that never before had a Tyler woman so studiously resisted the urge to flirt when she was so clearly being wooed. It certainly made for some flustered moments on her behalf but John had become quick to apologise if he felt he had overstepped her boundaries. She found herself blushing at his attentions and soon began to get a little worried that she might actually be getting too attached to him.

Although John was endlessly sweet and attentive (and not a half bad kisser either) she knew that his existence would be a short one. It just wouldn’t be fair on herself to become too fond of him – especially when her feelings for him were so new and small in comparison to the constant ache she felt for her missing Doctor.

She still rode Professor Ratcliff’s bicycle down to the barn every opportunity that she could, replaying the Doctor’s recording until she knew it word for word. At night when she couldn’t sleep she took to reciting it from memory, whispering to her pillow. And on rainy days when she was ensconced in the school and John was teaching, her mind was so full of daydreams of the Doctor that she soon garnered a reputation amongst staff and students alike for being just as dreamy as her husband.

Then came the closing days of September. A month into autumn it was chillier than ever but it didn’t start raining until Rose was a fair distance between the school and the TARDIS both. Discarding the bike, she ducked into a field and took shelter beneath an oak tree. To her surprise however, she wasn’t the only one who had gotten caught out in the rain.

“Hello?” Rose said, bewildered as she heard the crunch of leaves beneath a leather sole and a moment later she caught sight of a rather bedraggled looking girl, cowering in the roots of the ancient tree and twisting a skipping rope between her hands. “Hi. Um...what’s your name?”

“L-Lucy,” the girl chattered, tears dribbling down her already wet cheeks. “Lucy Cartwright.”

Rose crouched down beside Lucy and touched her dark hair gently. She was shivering violently, her clothes soaked. “I’m Rose Ty-I mean Smith. I live up at the school. Do you know where the school is?”

Lucy nodded, her lips trembling and blue.

“What’re you doing out here all alone?” Rose asked gently and Lucy began to sob quietly. Instantly, she put an arm around the girls’ shoulders and tried to comfort her. “Hey – s’alright yeah? I can help you get home.”

“Mother said I could go outside to play,” Lucy burst out suddenly. “But not far because it was going to rain but I forgot and I kept skipping and then it started raining and now I can’t get home!”

She began to sob again and Rose did her best to soothe her.

“Do you know where you live?” Rose asked gently after a while and Lucy nodded, still chattering away. “Come on then,” Rose took the girls hand firmly in hers and then glanced out into the pelting rain. “This rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop so I’ll give you a ride on my bike yeah? It’ll get you home quicker than skipping.”

They stood stiffly, Lucy clutching her skipping rope with her free hand and then they pelted out into the rain and retrieved the bicycle. Lucy rode on the slippery handlebars, holding on for dear life while Rose tried desperately not to crash into anything.

Lucy’s mother had been frantic with worry and so was very grateful when Rose appeared on the doorstep of her modest cottage home with her daughter. An attractive looking woman who couldn’t have been much older than Rose herself, Margaret Cartwright shared her daughters’ dark hair and pert nose. After she had finished fussing over Lucy, she insisted that Rose take her time drying herself off and have a cup of tea and some freshly baked fruit scones as a thank you and to warm herself up.

Although Rose was itching to get to the TARDIS (she hadn’t been in several days now because of the weather) she didn’t much fancy going outside again until the rain let up a little so she gratefully accepted and sat down at the table in her skirt and blouse, her coat hung in front of the fire to dry it off.

While Lucy proceeded to stage an elaborate tea party with her dolls, Margaret made real tea for herself and Rose, the two of them gossiping all the while about various people in the village and down at the school. After weeks of leering from pre-pubescent boys and “yes ma’am, no ma’am” from the maids, Rose was delighted to find somebody that she could actually have a half decent conversation with. It was almost like being back at home with Shareen gossiping about people they’d gone to school with.

After they ran out of people from the village to talk about Margaret was eager to know all about Rose and her husband – the two of them having made quite an impression on the residents of the village. Rose quickly spun a fable about meeting John through a mutual friend and after a whirlwind romance followed a fairytale wedding. Soon after they married he had gotten the teaching position at Farringham and they had moved down immediately from London.

“London!” Margaret said, awed. “Well that certainly explains a lot! You always wear such beautiful clothes...”

Rose didn’t answer; her attention having been diverted by Lucy. The girl was blissfully unaware of Rose’s scrutiny as she poured imaginary tea for her dolls in mimicry of the adults in the room, chattering away to them as though they were real people.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any children yet?” Margaret asked after a beat.

“What?” Rose laughed. “Seriously? I’m too young to be thinking about kids yet.”

“Doesn’t your husband want children?” Margaret asked, surprised. Rose blinked, more than a little perturbed by the question but Margaret obviously sensed her discomfort because she was quick to apologise. “I’m sorry,” she began quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry...”

“S’fine.” Rose said but then abruptly pushed herself to her feet. She had been enjoying herself but now she suddenly didn’t really want to be there any longer. “I’ve gotta go. It’s getting late.”

“But what about the rain?” Margaret called out desperately but Rose was already escaping to the front door, buttoning her still damp coat as she went.

“See ya Lucy,” she called over her shoulder. “Thanks for the tea Margaret.”

It was still raining outside and Rose weighed up her options for a moment before giving up hope of making a trip to the TARDIS today. She raced back to the school with haste, the bike slipping in the mud more than once and spilling her onto the ground like so many sacks of potatoes. By the time she arrived she was muddy, soaked, and in an absolutely rotten mood because of it. She nearly went out in tears trying to get the bike undercover and then again when her fingers proved too cold and clumsy to allow her entry to the school.

After several minutes of fumbling she finally managed to slip the catch and stepped inside. After drying herself off as best she could in the entrance hallway, she tramped up to her room and opened the door wide, hoping for a roaring fire to dry herself off and then maybe a cup of tea to warm her up once she had changed into something a little less muddy and waterlogged.

Instead she found an empty room, devoid of all her belongings and swept clean.

Rose stared in shock. “What?” she murmured, not even realising that she was tracking muddy footprints across the floor as she turned in a confused circle. She was certain that this was her room – she had grown quite familiar with its location after all – and yet all of her things seemed to have disappeared.

Fear rising in her throat like bile, Rose hurried out of her room and raced up the stairs to seek out John. Not even bothering to knock she barged right on in and discovered her loveable, ersatz husband grading papers at his desk and all of her belongings neatly set next to the leather lounge they had spent so many hours reading on together.

“John?” she called out to him, voice cracking alarmingly. He turned and smiled delightedly at her before rising and coming to meet her.

“Rose!” he took both of her hands in his, still looking nothing short of delighted. Rose didn’t really feel quite as optimistic. She managed a smile that was probably more akin to a grimace than anything and then looked pointedly at where her belongings were piled.

“What’s all this then?” she asked. In answer, John gestured happily at his bed and when her gaze found what he was showing her the bottom dropped out of Rose’s stomach so fast that she was surprised she hadn’t lost control of her bowels in the process.

It seemed that the headmaster had been true to his word – he had managed to procure them a double bed.

“It came just today,” John said, beaming. “And once the kitchen lads put it together I asked the maids to move your belongings up here as a surprise. Thank heavens we can finally get you out of those awful servant lodgings you were in...”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Rose said defensively, secretly remembering other, much more primitive lodgings that she’d made do with on her travels with the Doctor. And that wasn’t even mentioning the various jail cells and prisons that they’d been thrown into either. She certainly wasn’t about to forget the huge rat-like creatures in their cell on Jubilee Queen Lilith: Satellite XII in a hurry – they had been so large that the Doctor had to sweep her up onto his shoulders so she didn’t get knocked to the floor and buried underneath a swarm of them. By the time they were released the following morning, the creatures had shredded the Doctor’s trousers from knee to ankle with their claws – and their teeth hadn’t done a bad job on his shoes either. He’d been sore about that for weeks.

“Oh Rose,” John said, and he suddenly couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “I know I’m a man of relatively...well, modest means.” He looked up here, tentatively, and he looked embarrassed and hopeful and a little heartbroken all at once. “But you have to know that it would simply break my heart if you felt you could not have anything that yours might desire.”

His eyes were tender as he gazed at her and Rose felt a rather horrible, sickening wave of guilt. What would he think of her if she told him that the one thing her heart desired right now more than anything else was for him to go away and for the Doctor to come back? He loved her – clearly – but right now she certainly didn’t feel like she deserved it and she didn’t much want it either.

“I’m so very pleased,” John was saying, chattering away happily to cover the awkward admission he had just made. “That now we can spend more time together. I have been missing your company these past few weeks,” here he paused to touch her cheek, eyes soft. “I simply cannot wait to wake up beside you once again.”

He smiled at her then, his eyes all but glowing and Rose honestly couldn’t think of what to say.

“Great,” she said faintly but now that John had calmed down a little and begun to pay attention to something other than his own excitement he finally noticed the state she was in and his eyes widened.

“Oh but you’re soaked through!” he exclaimed, steering her over to the fireplace and hurrying to retrieve a blanket to lay across her shoulders. “Stay beside the fire a while and I’ll fetch a maid to help you dry off. And after that you’ll need tea...”

“John...” Rose said, trying to stall him for she didn’t know what, but he was already out the door.

Alone with the disconsolate crackling of the fire, Rose turned once more to look at the bed – _their_ bed she corrected herself and grimaced. She didn’t know much about marriages at this end of the twentieth century but they couldn’t have all been complete prudes or the human race would have died out well before her time. As proper as John was, she had no doubt at all about the way he felt about her, the things he wanted to do to her.

His wife.

“Oh _god_.” Rose whispered and covered her face with her hands.

Hot tears welled in her eyes and she closed her eyes to squeeze them away only to feel them dribble bitterly down her cheeks and onto her chin. Why the hell had the TARDIS chosen her to be John’s wife? She almost would have preferred to have been a maid if it meant she wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this!

Worse still than John’s expectations of her was that she was only just beginning to realise that judging by Margaret’s reaction, everyone else around here had their own views on married women and what their roles were. Roles that she would no doubt be expected to fill at some point in the not too distant future. The thought made her feel a little ill. She’d never really had to deal with the problems of being in a pre-feminism time period in a big way, but now they’d all come up to smack her in the face and she was feeling more than a little bit overwhelmed by it all.

A knock at the door startled her out of her miseries and she wiped her cheeks clear of tears before calling out permission for whoever it was to come inside.

John, true to his word, had sent up one of the maids along with his apologies – he had to take his final class of the day but he would come up straight away afterwards. The maid, Jenny, had actually been assigned to clean Rose’s room for the past few weeks as well as to help her in and out of the more ridiculous parts of her wardrobe.

Although Jenny was simple and not very well educated (then again, Rose’s formal education hadn’t been fabulous either) she had a cheery nature and a bright laugh. After her initial wariness of Rose she had also been revealed to thoroughly enjoy a good chat and they had become quite familiar. In her current mood however, Rose wasn’t much disposed to idle chatter and after Jenny had unlaced her corset she dismissed her tiredly.

“I’ll get you a nice tea tray shall I Mrs Smith?” Jenny said sympathetically. “Warm you up eh? We don’t want you to catch cold.”

By the time John returned from his afternoon classes Rose had retired to the couch, wrapped up snugly in her dressing gown and warming herself with a good cup of tea – but nothing could truly warm the cold spot of fear that throbbed just beneath her heart. John was kept busy with his books and his marking until supper and Rose began to organise her belongings, finding places to store them amongst John’s clutter.

Supper was a quiet affair, Rose too exhausted from the day to even bother with trying to make conversation. John seemed to sense too that she was tired. Or maybe he was just too wrapped up in his own thoughts as well – Rose couldn’t really tell. Either way he didn’t press her to talk and she was grateful.

Soon after Jenny came to retrieve their tea trays and put up the fireguard, John announced that he was going to turn in and Rose made a supreme effort not to watch him as he changed into his pyjamas. Not that she hadn’t seen him in the altogether before – she’d put him into pyjamas after he regenerated and more recently she’d had to change him from his brown pinstripes into the ugly tweed he now sported.

That was different though. It was the Doctor. Not some strange man she barely knew.

“Are you going to come to bed?” John’s voice came, light and casual. One hand lingered on his dressing gown as he waited for her answer but Rose merely shook her head and stood abruptly, slippered feet soft against the floor as she crossed to the window.

“I might read a short while. Before turning in I mean,” John continued, uncertainty beginning to touch the edges of his voice. “Would you care to join me?”

Again Rose shook her head, not looking at him, and she heard him select a book and settle in to read. Outside, the clouds that had brought the rain earlier in the day had broken and she could see a smattering of stars across the night sky. It reminded her of the beaded bodice on the dress she had worn the first time she had travelled back in time and met Charles Dickens with...

She sat and stared numbly, chin resting on one hand, hoping vainly that John would grow tired of reading soon and go to sleep before she had to get into bed with him. She wanted him well and truly incapable of initiating any sort of physical intimacy by the time she got under the covers because she was more than certain that he would take offence if she opted to sleep on the couch by herself instead of in the bed with him.

Time passed and when the soft thud of paper on paper signalled that John had finally shut his book, Rose tensed slightly and then shifted her weight nonchalantly to her other hand. She heard him return the book to its place and then made his slow way back to the bed. She could hear his slippers scuffing the floor slightly as he walked but she didn’t dare turn around.

And then he spoke.

“Will you come to bed?”

His request was soft and undemanding but Rose still found herself frozen in a somewhat terrified stupor. She didn’t answer and after a moment she heard him sigh heavily and then sit down on the edge of the bed.

Their bed.

“Why must you stare out that infernal window like you would rather be out amongst the stars than in here with me?”

There was more than a touch of irritability in his voice and Rose turned to him in surprise. She’d never heard John use such a tone of voice before – certainly not towards her. “You thought I hadn’t noticed?” he said, clearly upset. “How could I not?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, cheeks flaming. He looked tired and small sitting there on the bed by himself and once again she couldn’t help but feel guilty. She’d never seen him look like that – as a Time Lord or as a human – and it was both unsettling and a little painful. “S’just...” she struggled for something to say, glanced out the window and seized desperately on the first thing she saw. “They’re beautiful.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The stars,” Rose explained, turning back to him earnestly. “Can you imagine what it’d be like to go up there, see ‘em up close?”

She suddenly couldn’t stand it any longer, having the Doctor here with her but hidden away. She wanted him back, wanted the familiarity and the safety of their friendship and at the moment she didn’t really care if she unlocked the seal on the watch or not. John however was silent and Rose pushed on with something close to desperation.

“I’d love to travel the stars,” she said, searching his face fervently for some small flicker of recognition. “Don’t you reckon? Fly through the stars and learn all their names?”

John stood abruptly, a huge smile on his face and Rose jumped.

“You really mean that?” he asked, hope rising on his face. Rose gave a small nod, bewildered by the sudden change in his demeanour as he began to search for something, cluttering up his various work spaces until he finally touched a leather bound journal. “I never dared dream...” he admitted softly, turning to her with the book grasped in both hands like a precious artefact. “That you would be interested in the stars.”

“I think they’re amazing,” Rose enthused. “Really, really amazing.”

John teetered for a moment, tongue caught behind his teeth and then his eyes went down to the book clutched in his hands.

“I’ve been having these...most fabulous dreams since we arrived here,” he admitted quietly. “I dream that I’m...this man. A man from another world who has two hearts...” Rose gasped quietly but luckily John was so focused on keeping his eyes averted from hers that he missed it. “...and I – _he_ travels through the stars in this funny little box and has adventures. Not ordinary adventures mind, but these rather fantastic, unbelievable ones with monsters and all manner of ghouls in them.”

“Am I ever there?” Rose asked, breath coming short and fast in her sudden excitement.

“Oh yes! Almost all the time.” John blurted and then flushed, his hold tightening on the journal in his hands. “Wearing the most ridiculous and extraordinary outfits I might add. Quite often,” he looked scandalised at the very thought, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You’re wearing _trousers_.”

Rose couldn’t help herself, she had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from breaking out into peals of laughter.

“You think it’s ridiculous.” John said, embarrassed, and moved as if to hide the book away.

“No I don’t – I think it’s brilliant!” Rose countered, bounding up next to him and putting a hand on his arm to still him. “Have you been writing these dreams of yours down then?”

“Well I-I might’ve...perhaps...one or two of them yes. In the form of fiction of course.” John admitted in a mumble. He turned the book over and over in his hands nervously, eyeing her hopefully.

Rose eagerly took the bait.

“Can I see?”

John beamed, teeth and all. As he opened the book with fingers clumsy with excitement Rose drew in close to his side to look through it with him. The writing seemed quite fragmented but he had also drawn pictures in order to illustrate what he couldn’t put into words. The detail in his work was quite astounding – she identified more than a few alien creatures she had encountered with the Doctor shaded to perfection on the cluttered pages.

“These are gorgeous!” Rose exclaimed. “I didn’t know you could draw like this!”

“I’ve given you drawings,” John said, nose wrinkling in bemusement. “Sketches and the like.”

Rose pulled herself up, remembering once again who she was talking to. “Well yeah,” she said hastily. “But nothing like this. These are really, really good.”

“Oh.” John looked chuffed and then blushed all over again. “Well. Thank you.”

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at an alien that she didn’t recognise. At first glance it looked somewhat like a platypus that walked on its hind legs, but closer scrutiny revealed a vicious looking set of needle sharp teeth and glittering eyes.

“I’m not entirely sure.” John admitted shyly. “It looks rather like a duck-billed platypus but I’m certain that it isn’t. Can you see the teeth? Rather...rather vicious things I’d wager.”

“Tell me about it all.” Rose demanded and John, looking rather flustered and more than a little pleased, gestured her over to the lounge.

“Shall I start at the beginning?” he wondered aloud after Rose had settled down beside him and curled her legs up underneath herself.

“That’s usually a pretty good place to start.” Rose grinned and leant her chin on his shoulder as he began to flip through the pages.

“Shall I tell you about the box first?” he said absently. “Yes I suppose that would be a good place to start. It’s a most remarkable thing, as I’ve already said. The box itself isn’t all that large to look at but it seems a lot bigger on the inside almost like...like...”

“Like magic?” Rose offered lazily.

“Yes exactly!” John enthused, pointing at his drawings of the TARDIS. “As you can see here there’s a sort of central column or pillar that seems to hold it all up. It’s rather like an egg shape inside, round but tapering up towards the ceiling...”

“Tell me about the adventures.” Rose interrupted. “Tell me about the stars and the people that live out there.”

“Oh. Of course. Yes. Very well then...” John flipped back and forth until he came upon a picture of what was undoubtedly a Slitheen. “Oh yes,” he said with satisfaction. “I think you’ll like this one.”

Rose smiled against his shoulder. “Me too.”


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to my mum for her help with this chapter. After all these years she’s so used to me asking random questions for stuff I’m writing that she didn’t even bat an eyelid when I started drilling her on early 20th century wound care :P also my apologies at the long wait for this chapter. I literally _agonised_ over it and the following chapter so I hope it's worth the wait :)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/37167484462/in/album-72157686374544840/)   
[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/36942878960/in/album-72157686374544840/)

  
They stayed up late that first night reading and ended up falling asleep on the couch together, John still limply clutching the open journal to his chest, Rose’s head pillowed on his bony shoulder. After that first night it became an unspoken part of their routine, Rose demanding a new story from him every night before they went to bed. John was delighted by her interest and did his best to document his dreams for her as they came – sometimes dictating snippets of them to her as he wrote them down first thing in the morning over breakfast.

He didn’t even seem to suspect that Rose was trying to wear him out enough that by the time they crawled into bed he was content to merely sleep. It was a lucky coincidence really that Rose had also managed to find a connection with the Doctor that meant she didn’t need to visit the TARDIS every day – much harder now that autumn was progressing and the weather was worsening as the days went by.

The best part of it all though was the stories themselves. Rose was rapt in the adventures that came pouring out of John’s subconscious, especially the ones that she hadn’t been present for. Amongst the drawings in his journal she recognised a handful of people and creatures, but there were so many others that at times it was a little overwhelming to take it all in. Slowly she began to learn their names and stories and, along with it, the story of her Doctor and everything he never spoke about with her.

“He must have seen a hundred thousand different skies,” John said one day in a hushed voice, pausing in the middle of the field they’d been walking across to raise his eyes to the heavens. “Can you even imagine it Rose? All the wonders of the universe spread out like a feast before your waking eyes. So many colours! So much life and history!”

As she listened Rose huddled into his side, shivering with pleasure or laughing with delight or clutching his arm during the scary parts. When John began to falter her input always seemed to prompt him into saying more, or remembering some other small detail he had seemingly forgotten in the haze between dreams and wakening. And that was another thing – details. The Doctor usually become uncomfortable when she started asking him about his past but John was quite happy to answer all of her questions about the mysterious character who haunted his dreams.

Rose encouraged him as much as she dared, knowing that she was walking a thin and dangerous line. If the watch opened now then the Family would be able to find them in a blink. At the same time however, she would never again have an opportunity like this to learn about her Doctor. She worried occasionally about what he might think when he came back but reassured herself that it was either keep John busy with telling stories or let him do...well, other things which she didn’t think the Doctor would really approve of.

There came a time however, when John ran out of hours to sleep, to dream. Although the dreams about the Doctor came consistently and almost every night, nine-hundred years of memories was an awful lot to work through. Once he had exhausted his stories about the Doctor, John began to tentatively offer Rose stories about his childhood instead. Then it was anecdotes about his students and colleagues here at the school. Finally were his observations about the residents from the village and the surrounding farms.

“My stories might not be as interesting as the Doctor’s,” he’d say with an apologetic smile. “But they’re mine at least.”

Rose latched onto these stories too, prompting him in much the same way that she had done with those in his dream journal. As much as she had loved hearing stories about the Doctor, she found herself listening to John’s with an increased amount of attention, surprising herself by simply enjoying his company and the ordinariness of his life here with her.

She chatted easily with him about their mutual acquaintances and listened politely when he spoke of people she didn’t know well, but what Rose liked the most was listening to John talk about his own life. She was honestly impressed at the amount of effort the TARDIS had put into creating a credible back story for him – family, friends, schooling...even their own courtship.

“It was quite odd really,” he said thoughtfully as they walked arm in arm through the village one drizzly afternoon. “I just kept on bumping into you in the strangest of places. Oh but look!”

There was a brief pause here while John peered into a shop window at the wares. It had been rearranged since they had last been in the village together and although Rose had observed it vaguely a few days before on an errand John obviously had not. He liked cataloguing little differences in things, liked to observe leaves and imagine the path that they had taken as they fell, liked to guess the direction that her hair might curl after it had been washed, that sort of thing.

“It’s a bad habit of mine,” he had admitted apologetically when she’d had to snap him out of daydream after daydream one afternoon on a walk. “I dream far too much.”

Since then Rose had grown so used to him going off into his own head for no apparent reason that she didn’t even sigh now that he had stopped to ponder the window display. Instead she merely waited patiently for him to finish his scrutiny so they could continue on.

As she gazed at the window however, her eyes slipped out of focus and instead of seeing past the glass and into the shop she saw their reflection instead. It was a quiet moment, still as a photograph or a picture postcard; and to have something quiet and still was something so rare in her life with the Doctor that Rose took a moment to just stop, to observe, to look.

The reflection was at once both familiar and completely alien. In herself she recognised the face she was used to only seeing first thing in the morning; bare and pale and altogether very young. But in John she looked past his changed demeanour and suddenly noticed a familiar intensity in his dark eyes, the slightly parted lips belying his concentration and all she could think was _Doctor._

The thought was barely formed when John stood up again and she startled slightly.

“Shall we?” he said, holding his arm out for hers.

“Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason you kept on bumping into me?” Rose blurted and almost immediately wished she hadn’t. As always, she was never entirely sure of how much of the Doctor was leaking through here but John’s story about how they’d met, although vague, was suspiciously familiar. “Like, we were always gonna end up being...together somehow?”

John seemed startled by the question at first but his eyes grew soft as he brushed the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers and said, “Oh yes. Most definitely.”

Rose cleared her throat pointedly at him and John hastily drew his hand back when he realised that there was a woman walking past with a perambulator who was trying to pretend like she hadn’t been watching them. They greeted her, peered in on her baby dutifully and then continued on their way, arm in arm. When they got caught out in the rain on their way back to the school, John tugged her under the nearest tree for shelter and then gallantly held his overcoat above them both.

“You know I quite enjoy a spot of rain?” He admitted to her, dark eyes bright as he poked his nose out from under his coat and inhaled deeply. “Hmmn...the smell of it...”

Rose poked her head out too and after she too inhaled the damp, earthy smell she leaned out and caught a drop of water on her tongue before laughing gaily, turning John’s attention back to her without really meaning to. He leant forward suddenly to taste the raindrop in her mouth and she let him kiss her a while but didn’t let him carry on too long.

“We’d better get a move on while the rains lighter,” she said, trying to sound apologetic. And although John agreed with her he still couldn’t quite hide the pout that threatened his lower lip – a very Doctorish expression she thought with amusement, though Rose had never seen it on the Doctor in quite this context before.

She felt a touch guilty at his obvious disappointment but at the same time Rose was pleased that she had managed to mould their relationship into something that didn’t leave her terrified and John upset. It was a comfortable companionship they now shared, a compromise between what he wanted (and probably felt he was entitled to) and what she would allow herself to give. And she intended to keep it that way.

Her hope was that by keeping him distracted she might be able to avoid him calling her out again on her distinctly non-wifey behaviour. What she hadn’t taken into account however was that John might give _her_ something to get upset about instead.

She had never expected a man who wasn’t meant to be real to have secrets.

~*~

  
The weather was befitting for a day of revelations, the sky dark and heavy from the rain which had stopped only briefly mid morning before it began pouring down once again. As the day wore on the weather worsened, thunder and lightning coming to join the party along with a smattering of hail that rattled the windows like gunfire.

Despondently shelving and re-shelving books after her third long and aimless wander through the halls of the school, Rose waited in the library with one of the (slightly) more readable books until John finished his teaching duties. She was eagerly looking forward to having afternoon tea with him today, especially since she knew that he had a few new stories for her in his dream journal as well as his own anecdotes from the day.

To her surprise however, he appeared in the library well before his usual finishing time, talking a mile a minute and reminding her more of the Doctor than ever.

“Wonderful news!” he said without preamble, taking the book out of her startled hands and dumping it on a nearby table with little ceremony. “Firing practice has been cancelled because of the weather so I’ve got the whole afternoon off – isn’t that marvellous? Now I know that the weather is simply abysmal but I was rather hoping that we could find an umbrella so that I can show you the rabbit warren that one of the boys found yesterday. Of course if you’d rather not we can just retire and take tea instead. I’ve been writing down notes all day between classes and...”

He had taken her arm and managed to tug her out of her chair but at that point Rose had planted her feet very firmly on the floor. She was still back at the beginning of his conversation, sure she had misheard him but needing a bit more clarification before she decided to start getting upset.

“Firing practice?” she echoed blankly.

“Sorry?” John abruptly stopped tugging at her arm.

“You said firing practice was cancelled.” Rose reminded him, her tone slightly accusatory.

John laughed a little nervously.

“Well. We can’t have the boys out there with all that hail and lightning now can we?” he said. “I’m rather glad to be completely honest with you. The guns never fare as well in the rain and the visibility is so poor...”

His words were like a slap to the face. Rose actually rocked back on her heels she was so stunned.

“Guns?” she echoed. “What d’you mean – _guns_?”

John faltered and stared at her.

“Are there guns here?” Rose demanded and John blinked at her and then frowned.

“I thought you...it’s not that I haven’t...I mean obviously you wouldn’t have any reason to go out there when the boys are practicing but...well surely you’ve seen the targets set up on the range at...some...?” at Rose’s dumbfounded expression he tried once more, blustering a little now. “You must have at least heard someone talking about...”

“I didn’t actually.” Rose snapped and John actually recoiled a little. “Thanks so much for telling me.”

John frowned. “Rose...”

“So what, do all the boys use them?” Rose demanded and now John began to look a little flustered.

“I-I well I don’t really think it’s any of your concern...”

“Half of them are still kids!” Rose found herself yelling, really yelling. John, once again, looked rather taken aback. “And you’re helping teach them how to use _guns_? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

John spluttered.

“I...it teaches them discipline! Team work-and-and-erm-” he looked set to rattle off another few points but Rose was having none of it. None. Of. It. She pushed past him, out of the library and then stormed up the stairs, right past a group of goggle eyed boys who made a great show of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping through the open library door.

“Where are you going?” she heard John call after her.

“Matron needs help rolling bandages.” Rose snapped, not even turning to look back at him as she stomped her way up the stairs with as much noise as possible.

John did not follow her.

~*~

  
She was still fuming by the time she hit the landing and began storming up the next flight of stairs, near tripping over her skirts in her anger. He had no idea – _no_ idea the damage he was doing, helping teach these kids how to use guns! Rose was no history buff (well, apart from where she’d been with the Doctor) but she knew what was coming next year and she had seen enough photographs from the war to know that it hadn’t been much of a picnic.

Row upon row of white crosses, muddy ditches filled with bodies, long dead soldiers smiling grim smiles... These were the photos in her history textbooks that had led to a private, barely realised thankfulness that there had been no wars during her own lifetime. Even in fuzzy black and white she’d gotten the shivers from them, and long after she’d slammed the book shut and turned away to skive off with Shareen and Keisha the images had lingered with her unpleasantly.

Before the Doctor, Rose had never had to live through a war. Had never had cause to wonder what it might feel like to watch a loved one head off to battle. Now though, she had _seen_ wars. And not only seen them, she had participated in them as well. All the way across the universe and even a few back on good old Earth and whether they had been fought with swords or bullets of lasers, all of them had been somewhat stupid and most had been remarkably similar; ranks of soldiers hurtling headfirst towards their own death, so many of them young and oh so willing to die.

It would have been hypocritical for her to say that she opposed the use of weapons altogether – she’d wielded more than her fair share during her travels in order to protect herself after all. But she knew that many of the students here would soon become the generation of boys who would lie about their age so they could become soldiers – so they could fight and kill and die in the name of King and Country.

A lot of them would do it for a lark. Because everyone else was signing up. Because to go to war meant valour and honour and all of those other ridiculous things that young men so often dreamed of. For many of them it would be a rite of passage, a way for them to prove to themselves and others that they were men.

But Rose had grown to know a good many of the boys here over the brief time she had spent at the school and that’s all many of them were really, just _boys_ who still needed help to find books in the library, who sought a comforting ear when they were feeling homesick but didn’t dare admit it to their peers. Boys who still needed a soft hand to tend to their scrapes and bruises and a gentle voice to tell them to be brave, it was just a scratch and they’d be okay.

Her heart broke to imagine them in battle.

When she found herself abruptly at the door to the infirmary she stopped to take several deep, calming breaths before pushing her way inside, shutting the door behind her rather a lot harder than necessary. Privately she hoped that John had heard it from downstairs and knew that she was still angry at him. At the sound of the door slamming Matron Redfern looked up in some irritation but when she saw Rose there her expression brightened.

“Mrs Smith,” she said by way of greeting, not even mentioning Rose’s red eyes and pinched features. “What luck – I could use an extra pair of hands. Do you mind at all?”

Rose blinked back her tears, only just realising that she’d walked in on what was looking to be quite a job. One of the younger boys was sitting dejectedly in a chair whilst the Matron attended to a variety of injuries that he had somehow managed to procure including cuts, scrapes and a badly bruised wrist.

“Blimey, you’ve been in the wars haven’t you?” Rose managed, trying to stop her voice from sounding quite so thick. It figured really that one of the smallest of the boys would be in here _right_ after she’d been thinking about them all getting blown up and bayoneted and...whatever else they’d done to kill people in the war. Rose quickly washed her hands before coming over to see what she could help with, surreptitiously nudging away the lingering remnants of her tears with the backs of her hands as she did so.

“Master Willows here was tricked into climbing a tree in the grounds this morning,” Matron reported, clearly unimpressed as she finished checking over his wrist and then reached for a bandage. The boy looked suitably embarrassed as she began to wrap his arm with well practiced ease. “Unfortunately he got stuck up there and the only way down was to fall. Do hold your arm still Willows.”

“Is it broken?” Rose questioned as she soaked a clean wash cloth in the basin of hot boiled water Matron had left to cool and then wrung it out so that she could start to clean him up. Gently, she began to dab at a bloody scrape on the miserable boys’ cheek and when he winced at her touch she shushed him gently. Matron shook her head distractedly as she focused on wrapping his wrist so it was properly supported.

“Just a sprain. A few days with this to support it and it’ll be right as rain.”

The two of them worked in relative silence from then on, Rose occasionally goading the boy into a smile or two as she cleaned up his cuts and scrapes. “Bet you aren’t going to go climbing any trees for a while after this eh? ’Specially not in the middle of a thunderstorm. You’re lucky you didn’t get electrocuted. Your hair would’ve ended up standing straight up on end! Imagine trying to comb it all down flat then...”

By the time he left the infirmary she was actually feeling a lot better herself and the boy offered her a particularly wide smile as he thanked them both quietly, waving his bandaged hand in farewell as he scuttled out of the door. Rose watched him go with her own small smile. Her first aid knowledge didn’t extend much past antiseptic cream and bandaids but she had comforted enough injured creatures in her travels to know that making them smile often made them feel better than anything else ever could.

“Anything else you need from me?” she asked Matron hopefully, loitering on purpose on the off chance that she could prolong the moment when she had to go and confront John again. “Any bandages need rollin’?” she added jokingly.

Matron didn’t reply but sat down at her desk instead. “You’re very good with the boys,” she said in her quiet voice. Rose shrugged off the compliment.

“Just doin’ my job. Right, well if you don’t need me I might just head back to the...” she had turned to the door and was halfway through the word ‘library’ when Matron interrupted her.

“Before you go...” she began and Rose swung back around hastily. “Might I have a word with you?”

She gestured at the chair opposite hers and Rose hesitated only briefly before making her way over and sinking down into it, arranging her skirts more comfortably around her.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

“Well I’m not sure,” Matron admitted with a wry smile. “You haven’t told me what the matter is yet.”

Rose licked lips dry with nerves but then she smiled and laughed a little as she began her lie. “Sorry Matron but I really dunno what-”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the state you were in before,” Matron said and her usually soft voice was surprisingly stern. It seemed that Rose was nowhere near as good at acting as she had hoped. Or she really had looked a mess when she’d come in. “Something has quite obviously upset you.”

“It’s nothing. Really.” Rose denied but she had trouble meeting the Matron’s eyes squarely as she said it.

Matron said nothing, merely waited and Rose fidgeted for a long time, unwilling to speak.

Eventually, the older woman relented with a soft sigh. “You do know that if you ever need someone to talk to...”

“Yep,” Rose nodded fervently as she took her leave. “Absolutely. Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

Once she’d escaped from the Matron she went and hid in the library for the rest of the afternoon, returning to her book but barely reading a word of it. When she smelt the maids carrying the supper trays past the library and up the stairs however she quickly followed, not about to miss dinner, no matter how upset she might be with John. The evening was anything but enjoyable though. John tried several times to initiate conversation with her but Rose stubbornly refused to acknowledge him and he soon gave up.

Just to drive the point home a little more, Rose took herself off to bed early with her book and John took her lead, working silently on his class notes for the following day and then scribbling a few final things down in his dream journal before slipping into bed and rolling to face away from her with only a mumbled, “good night.”

Rose didn’t respond but before long she too put her book away and turned in. Neither of them slept particularly well that night, bodies curled away from each other defensively and the next morning he was gone before she’d even woken up. The only signs that he’d been there were the few toast crumbs on his plate and the used tea cup on their breakfast tray.

It was very quiet, having breakfast by herself. Even when she was on the TARDIS the Doctor often joined her when she first woke up and pinched slices of toast from her plate – she’d certainly not had a morning here yet when she hadn’t seen John at breakfast time. She took advantage of the solitude though, touching up the roots of her hair with her little bottle of peroxide and then inspecting her handiwork in the mirror. Her mum would’ve been proud of her for mastering the tricky art of bleaching her hair all by herself she thought with a smile and then turned her face to the little window by the wash basin.

It was bright with light today – the weather a marked improvement from the day before and as Rose washed her face and began to prepare herself for the day she started to plan a visit to the TARDIS after her library duties had been fulfilled. She desperately wanted to get away for a few hours and just be Rose Tyler again. Maybe she could even talk the ship into giving her back her mascara?

After pampering herself with what little beauty products she had (which really only amounted to talc, hand cream and a spritz of perfume), Rose was joined by Jenny who had come up to help lace her into her corset. Jenny seemed surprised but pleased at how cheerful she seemed today, and once Rose was dressed the maid took her leave and Rose headed down to the library with a spring in her step.

The sight that met her eyes as she stepped into the library however made her want to just go back to bed again and pretend she’d never woken up at all.

A trio of boys were in there, clustered around a table and whispering and giggling to each other about whatever they were reading. All around them was the scattered detritus of their slapdash search for reading material. “Oi,” Rose called out loudly and they all jumped guiltily. “You need a hand?” she folded her arms pointedly and the boys all fled, squeaking apologies as they went.

Looking around at the mess they’d left of the library, Rose couldn’t help but deflate slightly.

“Well there goes the TARDIS for another day,” she muttered and then set about the task of righting the room again.

She’d barely touched the first book however when the headmaster appeared.

“Mrs Smith,” he said, ushering her out of the library. “Might I have a word?”

Thinking that it might be about the boys who had just ransacked the library Rose followed readily to his office and was just on the point of telling him the names of the culprits when the headmaster cut her off with a curt admission that he wanted to speak about the row she’d had with John the previous day.

“Mrs Smith,” he began, voice sharp. “You will _not_ cause a scene like that again in my school. It’s unseemly and it’s unprofessional, especially in front of the students. These boys are taught to respect their professors but that respect is an earned privilege. Yesterday you embarrassed not only yourself but also your husband and by extension the entire teaching staff here. If you cannot learn to hold your tongue then you and your husband will very swiftly find yourselves without employment here. Is that completely understood?”

Rose shrank down a little further in her chair with every reprimand, curling her hands into fists so tight that she left little moon shaped dents in the skin of palms. She’d been called into the principal’s office back in her own school days when she’d been caught wagging or smoking behind the loos but this was infinitely worse. She felt both humiliated and a little angry at being spoken to so condescendingly and even more so when she nodded and affirmed with a “yes sir” from between gritted teeth and Rocastle dismissed her without even looking at her.

“That will be all Mrs Smith. Good day to you.”

Outside his office Rose took a deep breath to stop herself from going back in there and saying something she would regret and then she set her jaw, lifted her chin and headed back to the library where it took her the better part of the morning to re-shelve everything. Unfortunately it took her until then as well to realise that there were still several books missing that hadn’t been signed out on the registry. She had a high suspicion that the boys who had been in here earlier had stolen them and was just on the point of heading out to find them when John suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“As if the day couldn’t get any worse than it already was,” she mumbled scathingly under her breath before demanding, “ _What_ John?”

John looked quite taken aback at her sharp manner and he faltered briefly but still managed to meet her gaze steadily when he spoke to her.

“I just thought I should let you know that yesterday’s shooting has been rescheduled for this afternoon. It will take place after the conclusion of usual classes so I’ll be late to supper this evening.”

Rose stared, unsure as to why he had sought her out just to tell her that. “Yeah, and?” she said roughly and John flushed.

“I-well I just that I should let you know,” he stumbled over his own words nervously. “Seeing as you’re already angry with me I didn’t much fancy coming up for supper and causing another row for being late.”

Despite herself Rose couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture. Even though she was angry with him he had still plucked up the courage to effectively apologise for something he hadn’t even done yet.

“Right,” she said awkwardly. “Erm...thank you.”

John caught her eye and for a moment it looked like he was about to say more. But then he abruptly closed his mouth, smiled weakly in farewell and walked off, hands behind his back and head bowed, leaving Rose behind along with a by now familiar sense of guilt.

John, she thought, was getting very good at making her feel like a right proper cow.

~*~

  
The rest of Rose’s day was no better than the first half. She turned the school upside down and failed to find either the stolen books or the culprits. Her lunch arrived exceptionally late along with a stickybeak of a maid who was eager for gossip about Rose’s argument with John yesterday. Feeling decidedly snarky, Rose told her quite bluntly to mind her own business and the maid offered her a sulky apology before beetling off as fast as her skinny legs could carry her.

That was the point at which Rose discovered that her lunch was stone cold as well as late. She picked at it for a while but once she had given up on finding anything digestible on her plate she decided to try for a TARDIS visit. On her way upstairs for scarf and gloves however, she rolled her ankle quite painfully when the heel on her right shoe broke completely off. By the time she’d managed to find a more suitable pair of shoes and then limped her way back downstairs to seek out Professor Ratcliff’s bicycle he had already taken it out, effectively stranding her. There was no way that she would be able to walk to the TARDIS and back with her ankle so sore.

Despairing and honestly just wishing the whole stinking day would just _end_ , Rose returned to the library at a slow limp and sat down again with the book she had discarded the day before. She hadn’t been there long though when she heard the sound of boys heading past the library door, their chatter interspersed with the rattle of metal on metal.

Her stomach tightened at the sounds and Rose barely had time to wonder how exactly she had managed to _miss_ all these boys wandering around with guns for all these weeks before she’d put her book away. She barely even thought about what she was doing before she joined onto the tail end of their procession, following them out to the back of the school where the firing range had been set up.

The range was abuzz with activity, the kitchen boys putting the final touches on crude wooden targets whilst John supervised the set up of the guns and all of their assorted paraphernalia. Rose stood and watched from the shadow of the school, not quite trusting herself not to make another scene.

Even from where she stood Rose could see that John was having to be particularly sharp with the boys today. They seemed to be deliberately causing trouble, quite a few of them larking about and answering him back. Under normal circumstances it mightn’t have been such an issue but with loaded guns around Rose felt quite anxious. John became tenser and sharper as the boys continued their games, only relaxing when the headmaster appeared and exchanged a few sharp words with the misbehaving students himself.

Pouting and grumbling the boys finished setting themselves up and Rose gnawed on her lower lip as she watched them. These boys were mostly older but her stomach still lurched when they began their drills, one boy feeding the bullets and the other aiming the gun for several rounds before they swapped over. The shots seemed to come very fast – did they have machine guns this early on? Rose found herself peering at the guns in concern and found herself being stared at instead.

She jumped nervously when she found John’s eyes on her. He looked surprised at first and then his face creased and he looked away as though he’d been caught out doing something wrong. Despite herself, Rose continued to watch him closely as he coached the boys. His words were unintelligible from this distance but his voice was clear and steady. His face however was another story altogether. Every time he had to touch one of the guns there came a strangely familiar tightness to his expression and Rose wondered whether it was just because she was watching or if he always looked so unhappy when he handled the guns.

“Mrs Smith!”

Rose turned back to the school, startled to hear her name coming from that direction and was even more surprised to see the Matron approaching at a quick trot. Rose groaned under her breath and was just steeling herself to go and do whatever boring job the Matron had for her when she realised what the other woman was holding.

“I went looking for you in the library but you weren’t there,” she said somewhat breathlessly, as she transferred the pile of books in her arms to Rose’s waiting hands. “I just found these. It appears that one of the boys thought it would be amusing to deface them.”

The Matron looked unimpressed but Rose couldn’t help but laugh as she opened one and realised that it was on human biology and it had been artfully ‘improved’ with various scribbles and comments. _Some things about boys never change_ she thought with a somewhat fond grin as she surveyed the crude drawings.

“Thanks,” she said, tucking them under her arm. “I’m pretty sure I know who it was so I’ll have to tell the headmaster...” A particularly loud volley of shots made them both jump and Rose was surprised to see the usually composed Matron go pale. “You alright?” she asked with concern, reaching out to her. The Matron smiled weakly.

“I’m afraid I don’t much like guns.” She admitted.

“Yeah me either,” Rose said, turning back to the firing range and shifting the books so that she could hug them to her chest. “Seems John doesn’t mind ‘em though,” she added as a somewhat bitter afterthought and when the Matron looked at her questioningly, Rose hugged her books a little closer. “John didn’t tell me that the boys here are learning how to use guns. _And_ he’s helping.”

“Oh,” the Matron said with sudden comprehension as she glanced from Rose out to where John was still observing the firing drills. “I see. Is that what you were upset about yesterday?”

Rose gave in. Everyone in the school knew about their row by now it seemed and really, who else did she have to talk to about this? “Yeah. I mean it’s not like he’s not a good bloke...” she stopped and corrected herself with a frustrated sigh. “ _Man_. Cos he is. These boys though, they’re just kids really, and he’s teaching them how to fight! I mean, how’s that healthy? How’s it good for them?”

She jerked her head at the evidence before them but the Matron did little more than smile in grim concurrence. “I quite agree with you. Unfortunately it isn’t our place to...”

“Who says it’s not our place?” Rose broke in, temper flaring. She was getting sick of all the bloody sexism around here. Wives and mothers indeed! She was living proof that it didn’t matter who you were or where you came from – you could still do remarkable things given half a chance. She steamed on with her argument, getting even more riled up as she went. “We should get just as much say on these boys education as all those... _men._ We should get _more_ say than them. I’ve got a good mind to go over there and give John a bit more of a yelling at about it. _And_ the headmaster. It’s disgusting what they’re doing to these boys!”

She huffed irritably and Matron actually laughed, albeit a little nervously. “Goodness. You certainly can be forceful when you want to be can’t you?”

“Dunno bout forceful,” Rose muttered, scowling. “Mum says I’m just plain stubborn.”

“Well,” Matron said consolingly. “They say it takes all sorts to make up the world.” Rose actually laughed at that and the Matron looked relieved and apologetic as she began to speak again. “Mrs Smith....”

“It’s Rose,” she interrupted and at the other woman’s startled look she said. “Mrs Smith sounds a bit formal don’t you think? Considering that we’re talkin’ about my...” she disengaged a hand from the books and waved it around vaguely before she finally managed to choke out the last word. “Marriage. An’ all that.”

The Matron merely nodded. “Well I suppose if I’m to be calling you Rose then you’d best start calling me Joan.”

“Joan?” Rose repeated.

“That’s my name. Joan Redfern.”

The two women shared a brief smile and then Joan leapt back into what turned out to be an apology. “I am sorry Rose – I honestly didn’t mean to pry into your affairs. It’s just you looked so upset when you came to the infirmary yesterday...”

“Yeah well,” Rose raised a hand to swipe at a stray bit of hair that had been caught in the wind and was now fluttering annoyingly against her temple. “I never thought he’d be the type to give guns to kids you know?”

She gave a mirthless laugh and Joan smiled back sympathetically. “I don’t know your husband very well,” she admitted frankly, chancing a brief glance at John. “But perhaps you can tell me...did he fight in the war at all?”

How _that_ related to their conversation Rose had no idea. Nor did she know which war Joan was talking about. (What the hell war came before the First World War anyway? She couldn’t ever remember learning that in school – not that she’d ever paid much attention but still). What she did know was that the Doctor had fought in the Time War.

Maybe some of that had leaked through to John’s psyche along with all of the other little Doctorisms that she was beginning to uncover in him? She considered him for a moment as he paced behind the row of boys with guns and honestly had to wonder. Could the TARDIS have possibly fabricated memories of fighting in a war? She’d never thought to ask and of course he’d never said.

The Doctor never talked much about the Time War either.

“Yeah,” she blurted. Hell, the lie was as good as any other. It wasn’t like Joan was going to go blabbing to John later. At least, she _hoped_ Joan wouldn’t go blabbing to John... “Yeah he’s fought.”

Joan’s mouth creased into a rueful smile. “It seems we have a lot more in common than I first thought. I remember when my Oliver came home on leave-” she broke off suddenly, frowning deeply as if to dispel the memory.

“Oliver?” Rose pressed gently and Joan blinked and she was focused again.

“My husband,” she said softly and then swallowed. “He was a soldier. Shot at the battle of Spion Kop, 1900. I fought very hard to get over to South Africa with the nursing corps so I could be nearer to him but...I was barely there a week when he was shot. I didn’t even get to see him.”

Rose reached out again reflexively, to comfort. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Joan’s eyes were far away as she admitted, “It was a long time ago now. A lifetime really.” She looked up then and her eyes were sharper, less wistful. “What you must know, Rose, is that war changes a man. Oliver never spoke about his experiences in the army but there was always this...awful look in his eyes when he came home. I was so very angry at the army for doing that to him; for taking him away from me, for changing him...”

Rose shook her head. “I only knew him after the war,” she admitted. “An’ I remember...” she stopped suddenly, confused, when she realised she was meant to be talking about John, not the Doctor. She pressed on regardless. “He was so sad. I never met anyone so sad before him.”

Joan lifted her eyebrows slightly, as though urging her to say more. “And now?” she prompted.

Rose tried desperately to stop herself from flushing and failed dismally. “I dunno,” She mumbled. “He seems better than when I first met him...”

“He’s got someone who can make him forget,” Joan observed with a gentle smile. “A beautiful young wife who loves him. Of course he’s happier.”

Rose said nothing, licking her lips nervously before swallowing.

“I think that perhaps you should speak to him about this,” Joan told her gently. “And I also think that you should consider the fact that he is bound to honour the terms of his teaching contract. Whether he likes them or not.”

Rose felt her heart lift a little at what Joan was implying. “You think it wasn’t his choice?”

Joan gazed at Rose with a sad little smile. “Perhaps. Remember too that men do all manner of strange things to prove themselves to friends and colleagues. Your husband doesn’t seem to be the sort of man who would enjoy warfare and bloodshed but you’ll never know unless you ask him. It’s really as simple as that.”

Rose nodded and then, spontaneously, latched onto the Matron in a grateful hug. Startled by the intimate contact Joan jumped but after a moment she too returned the embrace, patting Rose awkwardly on the back.

“Thank you,” Rose said earnestly as she pulled away again. “For...you know.”

Joan was still looking a little unnerved by Rose’s assault on her but she still smiled. “Oh it’s quite alright. I still remember being young – all those silly thoughts and self doubts that cross one’s mind!” She laughed a little, nervously, and then offered, “Rose, I don’t suppose...would you care to join me for some afternoon tea?”

“Seriously?” Rose said in some amazement and when Joan nodded she gladly accepted. “Yeah! Yeah I’d like that. Why not? Yeah.” Rose smiled briefly as they began to make their way back inside the school but she soon began frowning again – and not just from the ache in her ankle. “You know I still owe John afternoon tea for yesterday? Course, I won’t be able to make it up to him today. Not now he’s got the headmaster on his case out there...”

Joan considered Rose’s words as they made their way to the library to replace the defaced books.

“You know,” she said, lowering her voice almost conspiratorially. “There is a way that I might be able to help you get him out of there.” At Rose’s gobsmacked look she quickly elaborated. “Just for this afternoon of course, in the long term he’ll still have to do it. But if you want to speak to him about all of this business then why shouldn’t you get to do it in peace and quiet over a cup of tea?”

Rose was momentarily flabbergasted by the idea that the Matron, a woman she’d thought uptight and unfriendly was now conspiring with her to help John skive off his teaching duties. But then she caught sight of the wedding band on Joan’s hand and she realised that Joan, probably more than anyone else Rose had met here, clearly knew first hand that life was much too short to spend being angry at someone you cared for.

Rose held much the same belief. It was half the reason she hadn’t given up on the Doctor despite all the times he had inadvertently upset her.

Suddenly grinning, she leant up against the bookshelves. “Yeah?” she said. “Go on then. I’m listening.”


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at uni as of this week so the chapters might be a little bit further apart again for a while. I will be doing my damndest to get it finished over the next few weeks though so don't lose heart! It will be finished, I promise. Also, a huge thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far - it's so wonderful to get so much amazing feedback from you all! Much love to you all xoxo Sapph

Rose already knew of course that there were bits of the Doctor leaking through in John’s dreams but she hadn’t realised just how much he _himself_ was akin to the Doctor until she started to really knuckle down and think about it.

Take for example what had happened when they had run into Sarah Jane at Jeffry Vale. Up until then Rose had never thought to ask about the companions that came before her. Mostly of course because the Doctor never _spoke_ about them, but still. She’d certainly never entertained the possibility of the existence of other companions because in all truth, Rose had always been the sort of girl who was more focused on living in the present and did little wondering about the past or future.

Travelling with the Doctor hadn’t changed that much (with the exception of when she literally _was_ in her own past of future), but the realisation that he’d travelled with loads of other people and had never even mentioned them to her _had_. Suddenly she was thinking an awful lot about the people who came before her as well as the people who might come after she was gone. The idea that she might just be what Mickey derisively called ‘the flavour of the month’ opened up all sorts of horrible thoughts and feelings – self doubt being one of the big ones. Sheer, abject terror of being left behind by him was another. And when she confronted him about withholding something so important from her he’d been defensive, even angry that she didn’t understand why he’d never thought to tell her in the first place.

Now it was very much the same. John had withheld the fact that this school had a military curriculum from her (for whatever reason), and then he’d gone and inadvertently upset her when the truth finally came out. Only this time instead of probing gently and trying to find out his reason for keeping it from her Rose had started screaming at him, then gotten in a strop and refused to speak to him at all.

Oh great, and there came that guilty feeling again. She really seemed to be getting a lot of that lately, especially in relation to John.

But honestly, she had to wonder whether she hadn’t been the least bit unfair to him. She had forgiven the Doctor so many times for things much worse than this. Maybe, she reasoned with herself, she was just more upset because she knew how much the Doctor loathed weapons and to hear John talking about using them in such a casual manner was just a little too unsettling.

Either way she owed him an apology – and afternoon tea for that matter. And that was why she was sitting up in their room with a tea tray, waiting for him. Joan’s plan had been a good one, and really very simple. It didn’t take long for John to appear, bursting through the door in such a hurry he didn’t even bother to knock.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, as though he’d run all the way up the stairs and Rose smiled weakly at him in greeting, feeling a touch of guilt for worrying him so much. At the sight of her sitting with her foot bandaged and propped up on a stool his face creased with anxiety and he rushed to her side without an ounce of hesitation.

“Oh Rose, are you alright?” he said, face bleak as dropped to his knees to inspect her neatly bandaged ankle for himself. “Matron said you fell on the stairs and hurt yourself.”

“I’m alright,” Rose assured him, peeling his hands gently from where they fluttered uncertainly at her ankle. “It’s not even sprained really, just a bit swollen. I did break a really nice pair of shoes though,” she added as a rueful afterthought.

John stared and Rose bit her lip, trying not to smile.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “It was the only way we could think of to get you out of watching the boys.”

John frowned, pushing himself to his feet again. “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”

“Well...erm...” Rose cleared her throat awkwardly. “Cos I sort of...owe you an apology?”

John looked utterly flabbergasted.

“Also,” she added. “I owe you afternoon tea. From yesterday. When I blew you off.”

“Blew me...off?” John echoed faintly. He looked like he was liable to faint and as he settled into open mouthed silence again Rose rather desperately searched the room for inspiration on what to say next. It was then that she glanced at the tea tray that sat waiting for them and she looked up at him with her best winning smile, the one that always made the Doctor do whatever she asked him.

“D’you...fancy a cuppa?” she asked hopefully and after a long moment in which she held her breath and John gaped at her, a tentative smile slowly blossomed on his face.

“I’d love one.”

Rose eagerly nodded him into the chair opposite hers and as he sat down she leaned forward awkwardly, trying not to jostle her ankle as she reached for the teapot. She had barely touched the handle however when John leant forward, stilled her hand and said, “Here, let me.”

Touched by his obvious concern, Rose sat back comfortably and watched as he carefully he measured out the milk and sugar for them both. A fond smile tugged at her lips when she realised that John had somehow managed to commit to memory how she took her tea, right down to the way she shook her sugar out flat on the spoon to get just the right amount.

“White and one,” he announced quietly, handing over the cup and saucer carefully. Rose took it gratefully, blowing across the surface gently before resting it in her lap to cool. John did much the same.

Silence fell.

“Sorry I yelled at you yesterday,” Rose said finally, awkwardly, into the silence. “In front of the boys an’ everything. I know you don’t like making a – what do you say? – a spectacle of yourself an’...I’m just really sorry.”

John dropped his gaze to his tea and nodded.

What he said next nearly made Rose spill the contents of her own teacup in her lap.

“I’m sorry too.”

Rose blinked, sure she had misheard him.

“What?”

John took a breath. “I’m sorry that I never told you about the military requirements of the curriculum here. I was afraid that it would upset you so I tried to keep it from you. In hindsight of course, a grievous error on my behalf which I won’t be making again but in short; I lied to you and I’m so very sorry.”

Rose stared at him, shocked. “Right,” she said faintly.

Okay so scrap all previous notions – John was absolutely _nothing_ like the Doctor. Not if he was actually _apologising_ for something he’d done to upset her. The Doctor had far too much pride for things like apologies unless he’d done something really, really spectacularly awful (which didn’t happen often) and even then he usually just took her somewhere pretty or wheedled her endlessly until she relented and stopped being sour towards him.

Or they’d just hug and make up. That tended to happen a lot, especially if they were mid-adventure.

John cleared his throat nervously.

“Do you...” he began hesitantly. “Do you accept my apology?”

“I suppose so.” Rose said dubiously and John looked relieved for about a millisecond before she hastily added, “Can I just ask one thing though?”

John looked apprehensive but nodded anyway and Rose pushed forward before she lost her nerve. If he gave her a straight answer for this then he was definitely _not_ channelling the Doctor. No way.

“This military curri-curriculum stuff,” she began, only stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word. “It’s compulsory right?”

John’s brow furrowed slightly. “Yes. What-”

“For students _and_ teachers?” Rose interrupted and John’s mouth worked silently for a moment before he took a hurried gulp of his tea and then choked a little as it scalded him. “John?”

“It isn’t my place to question the curriculum.” he said, voice a little raspy from where the tea had scalded him.

“So it’s a part of your contract that you’ve gotta teach them how to shoot yeah?” Rose guessed hopefully.

“It isn’t my place to question the curriculum,” John repeated. “Not unless I want to lose my position here and return to tutoring in London which, as you will remember, hardly pays as well as this job.”

Rose resisted the urge to punch the air. Joan had been right – it _was_ in his contract.

“But you don’t think it’s right yeah?” she pressed eagerly. “Teaching kids how to shoot?”

“I-” John swallowed and looked away from her awkwardly. “It doesn’t matter what I think Rose.”

“Yeah it does.” Rose said, leaning forward and catching his eye again. “It matters to _me_.”

They looked at each other for a long moment and then John had to look away again, mumbling and stumbling and stuttering. Rose reached awkwardly over the tea set to place her hand over his and her touch seemed to steel him because he took a deep breath and then just blurted it all out.

“Look I-well I don’t believe that teaching them how to fight should be an integral part of their schooling when there are other ways to instil discipline but I understand why it is a part of the curriculum and I pray that if these boys – heaven forbid – are ever called upon to fight that they do not become embittered but rather...well, _use_ the skills they have learnt here to help them to survive. Not that I believe mankind needs to prove itself in war of course, there is honour and courage to be found even in ordinary life. The very act of reaching out for another’s hand...” at this he paused, turned his hand over and twined his fingers with Rose’s, mouth tilting upwards when he saw the shine of their wedding bands reflecting off each other. His voice was quieter as he continued. “I believe that history is and should be built on moments of love and trust – not just battle and bloodshed. I myself am certainly much happier to study warfare than to be an active participant any day.

“Also,” he added as an afterthought. “I know it is expected but I truly, truly _loathe_ using the cane on the boys here.”

He finished with yet another deep breath which he huffed out dramatically and then a slightly stunned expression blossomed on his face as he realised what had just come tumbling out of his mouth.

“Gracious,” he breathed and then turned his gaze to her in consternation. “Please promise me that you won’t tell my colleagues a word of what I just told you. They already think that I am far too sentimental.”

Rose couldn’t help herself – she burst out laughing.

“Rose?” John looked honestly concerned now as he began to plead with her. “Please...”

“Don’t be silly,” she interrupted him with a shake of her head, giggling like crazy now. “It’ll be our secret yeah? You might have to do what they tell you but it doesn’t mean you have to agree with it. Right?”

She winked at John and he responded by looking slightly dazed. “You aren’t still cross with me?” he said wonderingly.

Rose rolled her eyes. “How’m I supposed to be angry at you when they’re making you do something you don’t want to? You should’ve _told_ me though.”

“I know,” John said regretfully and then leant forward earnestly. “Let me to make it up to you?”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “You really don’t have to.”

“No but I do,” he interrupted beseechingly. “Let me take you out on a picnic. Somewhere special that I haven’t taken you before.”

Rose looked pointedly down at her foot and John looked sheepish as he conceded, “When your ankle is a little better of course.”

Rose hesitated a little but then nodded gladly. “Alright then.”

“Excellent!” John proclaimed and then beamed at her, relief evident in his every feature. Rose grinned back just as wide and for a long time they just sat there and smiled at each other like idiots until their faces actually hurt. It really did feel good to have cleared the air between them Rose thought as she rested her aching cheeks and set to sipping her tea, now cooled to an acceptable temperature.

“So,” she finally said, coquettishly, over the rim of her cup. “I believe you had some new stories to tell me?”

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/36502432094/in/album-72157686374544840/)

The rest of the afternoon was so enjoyable that Rose honestly regretted missing out on John’s company the day before – especially when he had clearly been in such a good mood. In lieu of their row he kept throwing in apologies in the lulls between stretches of conversation but after a while he loosened up and they retired to the couch so he could read his latest dreams from his journal, even going so far as to act out some of the more exciting bits which he had never done before.

Once those stories were exhausted they easily lapsed back into their own anecdotes from the past two days. Rose told him all about the defaced books and John frowned and spluttered on for a while about children disrespecting literature and when she laughed at him and called him a stodgy old man he tried to convince her otherwise by telling her a terrible joke that he’d heard from one of the villagers he’d paused to have a yarn with the other day.

The joke was so awful and they laughed so much that Rose was worried she might accidentally perforate a lung, what with her corset squished ribs and all. By the time supper arrived they had moved onto John’s account of the past two days but apart from their row (which he apologised for yet again) nothing out of the ordinary had happened to him and soon enough they fell into a companionable silence that lasted until they decided to turn in.

John surprised her then by scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed.

“I _can_ walk.” Rose protested, even though she was laughing.

“Matron Redfern told you to rest your ankle,” John explained primly as he set her down gently. “And you’re certainly light enough for me to carry.”

“Either I’m light or you’re just really strong.” Rose teased as she crawled under the covers. “Not that you look it.”

John smiled wryly as he clambered in beside her and propped himself up on his elbow. “I think you will find, Rose, that size is not always an accurate indication of strength. Or other things for that matter,” he added aloofly and Rose went out in helpless giggles. John laughed too, a strangely controlled chuckle to match his careful smiles but then he leant over her and Rose found her giggles stifled as he pressed his mouth gently over hers.

It started out as little more than a chaste goodnight kiss and Rose was quite happy to return that but the second she felt his hands on her beneath the blankets she flinched away from his touch.

“John...erm...maybe not today yeah?” she said as calmly as she could with his hand resting so intimately against her hip and his lips hovering breathily over her own. “We should probably wait till my ankle’s a bit better.”

It was an inexcusably lame excuse, but it seemed to work because John looked heartily disappointed but agreed.

“It’s probably a little soon still isn’t it?” he said ruefully, taking his hands back with reluctance and shrinking back into himself like dog that had been scolded. “I didn’t really think...I’m truly sorry.”

Rose frowned for a second and then nearly laughed when she realised that John had just apologised to her for basically attempting to seduce her into having makeup sex with him. How...modern. Instead of laughing and upsetting his delicate sensibilities however, she reached for his hand under the blankets and squeezed it.

“Stop apologising,” she told him as she snuggled comfortably against his chest. “You’ll drive me mental if you keep on like that.”

As it turned out the apologies would continue for the rest of the week. The bad weather returned with a vengeance the next day, seeming to mock poor John and his good intentions. In addition, no matter how many times Rose tried to tell him that everything was okay between and he really didn’t need to make it up to her he stubbornly continued to apologise.

“You were right,” he would say, shaking his head. “I don’t agree with it and I shouldn’t have lied to you about it and...”

So it went on.

The end of the week was as rainy as the beginning but thankfully Saturday dawned bright and clear and John skittered down to the kitchens early to stock up on provisions before the weather turned and he lost his chance to take her out. Rose had barely finished her breakfast when he returned, grinning broadly, their usual picnic basket hooked over his elbow.

“Would you care to accompany me for a stroll Mrs Smith?” he said, graciously offering her his arm.

Grinning, Rose took it and affected her best snobbish accent. “Oh I’d simply adore it Mr Smith. Do lead on.”

The two of them set off arm in arm, John whistling as he set a jaunty pace that had Rose half skipping to keep up with him. First they took a brief detour to inspect the rabbit warren that he had told her about earlier in the week and after they had been satisfied with a brief flash of twitching whiskers Rose began to head for their usual picnic spot.

John had other ideas. He led her down a little used path at the back corner of the school instead, and in his manner was all the air of a little boy eagerly seeking out his favourite and most secret of hiding places.

“Oi, where’re you taking me?” Rose asked, laughing in bemusement as he guided her along a winding, overgrown path through the trees.

“It’s a surprise,” John smiled back at her and tugged her hand gently. “I rather think you’ll like it. At least, I hope you will.”

“Yeah?” Rose said, grinning.

“Yes,” he corrected her, but his eyes were shining.

As it turned out, his surprise picnic spot turned out to be a small clearing ringed with the last few straggling flowers from summer. While he meticulously set out their rug and sandwiches Rose sat on a fallen tree where the sunlight was weak but warm and watched fondly as he laid out the spoils of their picnic.

She really was starting to like this sweet, daft man and his bumbling, old fashioned ways. As she watched him puttering about she was moved by the thought that in less than two months he was going to disappear forever. As she watched him sadly he suddenly brushed off his hands and then looked up at her with a wide smile. Rose smiled back but his happy expression faded suddenly in favour of something else altogether.

“Oh...” he breathed, quite stricken and Rose shifted nervously under his gaze.

“What?” she asked and then stiffened in horror as a thought occurred to her. “Is there a spider on me or something?”

“What? No, no. Rose can you just...stay very still for me?” John requested, fumbling for a moment in the picnic basket before extracting his journal and a pencil. “I’m going to sketch you.”

“What?” Rose felt her face flush as she readjusted herself self-consciously. “What for?”

“No don’t-don’t move!” he said and she tried not to grin as she settled herself down a little more comfortably. “That’s it. Can you tilt your head just slightly to your right? Like it was before. That’s perfect, hold it right there...”

He sketched slowly and painstakingly, his dark eyes utterly focused beneath his ridiculous cloud of hair that even now stood on end like a startled rooster. Rose watched him out of the corner of her eye as he scrutinised the basic drawing against her for a long time before beginning to carefully shade in details, concentrating on getting all of the lines just right. When he’d finished he blew the excess graphite off the page gently and then got to his feet.

“Can I have a look?” she asked, voice hushed. She’d watched him draw before of course but never had she been the subject of his work and the intensity and great care with which he had sketched her was honestly a little bit humbling.

“Of course,” John said. He came to sit beside her and Rose took the journal from him carefully, not entirely sure what to expect.

The Doctor had rendered her in stone once before but even the perfection of his statue of her as Fortuna couldn’t compare to this – Rose had never seen a more flattering likeness of herself. He had somehow managed to catch all the nuances of the weak autumn sun on her skin even in black and white and shades of grey. The curve of her chin was flawless, her eyes beautifully expressive and the soft tendrils of hair framing her face were rendered to perfection.

“Wow,” she breathed. “S’beautiful!”

“Only because you are,” John said softly as he brushed one of the flyaway strands of hair back from her face, hand lingering on her cheek. Rose blushed deeply at his attentions and cleared her throat awkwardly.

“You know, you never said,” she said, turning her attention back to the matter at hand which was clearly his drawing skills and not the way her stomach had done a rather spectacular back flip when he touched her. “Where’d you learn to draw?”

“On Gallifrey I think.” John mused vaguely, clearly concentrating more on her hair than her question.

Rose however, looked at him sharply.

“On where?”

John blinked in confusion. “Did I say on? I meant in.”

“And where’s that then?” Rose pressed on despite herself. “Gallifrey I mean.”

John considered, chewing his lip. “Ireland I think it must be. I spent some time there when I was quite young, with my family.”

He smiled insipidly at her but Rose wasn’t convinced. She knew that name and she knew that John of all people shouldn’t know it. To distract him she began flipping through the journal looking for something new that might get him talking. Unfortunately the only new thing in there was the picture of her and she blushed all over again at the sight of it.

“Do you like it?” John asked gently and Rose bit her lip as she looked up.

He looked so earnestly hopeful, so desperate for her approval. And it _was_ beautiful. Rose smiled at him and nodded a little. “I love it,” she admitted honestly and John beamed at her, pleased beyond all measure.

“I’m glad,” he said quietly and touched her cheek again, a proper caress this time. Rose leant into his palm a little and after a moment John took advantage of her stillness, leant in and touched his lips gently against hers.

Rose felt her pulse quicken slightly at the touch of his lips, then a little more again as his mouth moved against hers gently, the whisper of a kiss. She exhaled gently into his slightly open mouth and at the touch of her breath, John pulled back just a little. Rose could see his eyelashes fluttering dark against his skin for just a second before he opened his eyes to gaze at her.

Under his scrutiny her lips began to twitch a little, as though she were about to say something though she had no idea what. Nevertheless, although no words escaped her, the silent question in his eyes seemed to be answered by her body language because he leant in, a little less tentatively this time, to kiss her again.

And she let him.

Maybe it was the weak warmth of the sun, the gentleness in his touch. Or maybe it was the stories he had been sharing with her over the past weeks, how comfortable he felt to be with now. But for the first time since landing here, for the first time since she had become a wife and a librarian and a nursing assistant and any other number of things – Rose didn’t think.

She let him kiss her. Let herself kiss him back and became so caught up in the act of just _kissing_ him that she didn’t even realise that his hand had moved from her cheek until he shuffled forward on the log. At the firmer push of his lips against hers, the press of his thigh against hers even through all her layers of skirts, Rose drew back shyly.

“John...” she began but then she saw the softness of his expression, the yearning and the adoration and the _love_ and all the words of protest she had been so close to blurting out got lost behind the lump in her throat. She stared at him, lips pink and wet and his eyes dark and soft and hooded.

And before she could even think to stop herself, Rose found herself kissing him.

It was the first time she had ever initiated a kiss with John and it was unlike any other that they had shared. This was no mere touch of lips made appropriate for public consumption – there was something more to it. Acceptance maybe, or the tentativeness and sweetness of a new love just beginning to bud. The fact that it was she who had initiated the action made it all the more so.

She felt his hand slip into her hair, long fingers caressing the few short strands that had fallen out of the bun she often pinned it into. Almost unconsciously, she leaned into his touch and she felt a stray finger brush against the soft skin beneath her jaw.

Uncharacteristically it was he who finally broke the kiss, hand lingering against the curve of her neck. Rose was surprised to realise that her chest was rising and falling rapidly now, as though she’d just run a marathon. Her heart was hammering away too, her chest tight against the constraints of her corset.

“We’d better um, have our...” she broke off awkwardly and then she brushed past him and made her way over to the rug, making a big show of re-organising the remaining contents of their picnic basket as she looked for the napkins.

“Rose.”

It was almost an admonition and she froze as John came to kneel beside her, took the napkins out of her hands and laid them aside.

“John...” she began in a whisper but then stopped abruptly as he kissed her again.

If there had been something new and beautiful in the kiss that she had given him then there was something a little fierce in the kiss he now gave to her. The intensity was coming off him in waves, a slow possessive burn that left her breathless as he pressed her back gently into the picnic rug, kissing her all the way down.

“John...” she mumbled against his lips, not quite wanting to stop but knowing that they couldn’t carry on in this fashion for much longer before things got too out of control. Oblivious to her concerns, John hummed contentedly against her lips and then bent his head to pepper her neck with small kisses.

At the same time he reached down, a hand reaching for the hem of her many skirts...

It was only when she felt his hand on her lower leg that Rose sat up with a terrified jerk (“No, stop!” she gasped), knocking John flying as she did so.

The man in question was breathing heavily where he lay. Sprawled back on his elbows his lips were pinker than ever and his body language was open and inviting. But his hands had also curled into fists in response to the terror in her shout – a protective instinct. Rose was torn momentarily between a terrifying desire to kiss him silly or to just run away before she did something stupid.

Like kiss him again.

“Rose...” he reached for her in concern but she was on her feet before she even realised that she had shoved him aside again on her way up. Once again she sent him sprawling but she didn’t pause to apologise or even look back, she was too busy dodging between the trees and away as fast as her feet would take her overly dressed self.

She heard John call after her plaintively but she still didn’t stop until she’d reached the school and even then when she turned and saw that he hadn’t pursued her she didn’t dare pause, running on and on down the road towards the village. At one point she tripped and fell, rolling her already weakened ankle painfully and getting muck all over her clothes but she pushed herself straight up again and charged on, the pain in her ankle numbed by the adrenalin in her system.

She hadn’t run so far in a long time. By the time her feet carried her to the TARDIS she was out of breath but jubilant at the same time with the rush of natural chemicals in her bloodstream. It wasn’t until she was pressed against the inside of the barn door that she realised she hadn’t actually been to the TARDIS in almost two weeks – had all but forgotten about it in fact, in lieu of listening to John’s stories instead.

Slowly, skittishly, she made her way over to the TARDIS and let herself in with trembling hands. The recording of the Doctor was halfway through on the monitor (had the TARDIS been playing it?) and the guilt of seeing him there twisted her stomach painfully, like she’d swallowed down shards of glass from a broken bottle.

Rounding the console to the jump seat she was shocked to realise that she hadn’t really been missing him these last few days at all – hadn’t felt the need to see the recording or to hear his voice. She hadn’t even cared that John had run out of stories to tell about him, completely content to listen to him prattle on about Nottingham and his students and...

God, when had _that_ happened? She felt a sudden panic bubbling up within her and her lower lip trembled as she suddenly began to cry. When had she started caring so much about John that she’d started to forget about the Doctor? She sat down heavily on the jump seat. The image of the Doctor on the view screen was blurred by her tears but his voice was cheerfully unassuming as he prattled off his endless list of instructions.

Rose cried bitterly as he recited the list she still had memorised. He’d never even _mentioned_ the possibility of his human self falling in love with her. He’d probably not even considered it, just like he hadn’t considered the notion that Rose might accidentally fall for his human self. Why would he? He was clearly confident enough in their relationship – whatever that might be – to not worry about Rose straying if she was left alone with another man for three months.

God, and how arrogant was that? Typical bloody Doctor! Always expecting her to come back to him, just _assuming_ that she would no matter how many stupid things he did or how many secrets he kept from her or how historical figures he flirted with or...

What if he didn’t care what she did? Maybe she’d been wrong about him and she really was just the latest in a long line of ever changing names and faces. The thought made her feel ill – Rose Tyler, flavour of the month. Nothing more than a passing fancy that had stopped briefly, something to keep him happy and amused. Certainly never anything more than just a friend to him – he probably didn’t even _feel_ love the way humans did!

And oh that just wasn’t fair – that she could be so hopelessly in love with this amazing man and he didn’t even seem to notice, or care.

Later she would dismiss the thought but with the state she was currently in Rose leapt to her feet and in a sudden burst of fury at him she mashed at the console with her hands in an effort to stop the recording. To her utter dismay, it merely began repeating the last three seconds over and over again.

“Thank you.” he smiled. “Thank you.” he smiled. “Thank you.” he smiled. “Thank you.” he smiled.

Rose pushed the tears off her cheeks just long enough to stab the pause button and once that was done she slumped back onto the jump seat with her hands folded in her lap and wondered – what next? She couldn’t stay in the TARDIS forever, eventually she would have to go back to the school and face John.

The problem was that as far as she could see there were only two possible outcomes to a confrontation with him after what had just happened between them. Either she flat out refused him, broke his heart and had to deal with the consequences (would he send her away? She wouldn’t blame him if he did), or she embraced this new life and risked ruining what she had with the Doctor forever.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to try and look at the situation from a rational point of view but her emotions were too confused to even try. John had shown her so much love – more than the Doctor had ever dared – but she knew, _knew_ that her Doctor cared for her, maybe even loved her. How could she give that up for a man she’d only known for a month and a half?

Abruptly her thoughts turned to Mickey – and not for the first time since she’d been stranded here. She remembered how she had left him behind so she could travel with the Doctor, not even sparing a thought as to their future as a couple. And then how the longer she travelled with the Doctor the bigger the rift between she and Mickey had become.

In the end she had lost Mickey anyway, no matter how hard she’d tried to love them both. And although losing him had been horrible and it still hurt to think about now, Rose couldn’t even fathom the depth of pain that would come should she lose the Doctor.

If the Family got their hands on him he could very well die for all she knew – with his regenerative energy sucked dry he wouldn’t stand a chance. And she just couldn’t leave John defenceless against those monsters. If they found him out then he would need her to protect him and if she hurt him now then he’d push her away for sure. The Doctor had been very insistent that she be able to keep watch over him, that she integrate herself into his life.

Which meant she’d have to let him...she’d have to...

Groaning, Rose slumped back onto the jump seat as much as her corset would allow and kneaded her eyes with her knuckles.

This whole thing had totally gone spiralling out of control and so much of it was her own stupid fault. She should have pretended to stay mad at him about the guns. She should have pretended that it was an arranged marriage, that she was barren, that she had some horrible contagious disease... _anything_. But she hadn’t even thought about any of that had she? Oh no. She’d just gone along with John and let him start kissing her and taking her out on picnics and now...

Her thoughts turned again. What if she fell for John? She was already so close to giving in to his affections and from there things would only grow more complicated. What happened if she got to the three month mark and couldn’t bear to open the watch? Would the Doctor fight his way out, demanding to be freed? Worse, what if she gave in, opened the watch and then he refused to let her travel with him anymore because she’d taken advantage of him when he’d been human?

What if...?

Rose pushed herself to her feet. Hands shaking, chest tight, she searched the console for her mobile and then curled up on the jump seat as she dialled.

Five rings later she was greeted with a somewhat absent, “Hello?”

“Mum?” Rose said in a trembling voice and Jackie’s tone changed instantly.

“Rose?” she said, surprised. “Sweetheart! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Trying desperately to get herself under control, Rose took a deep breath and then began. “I’m alright mum. M’not hurt. It’s the Doctor...”


	6. Chapter Five

The world’s  
not wanton  
only wild and wavering

I wanted to choose words that even you  
would have to be changed by

Take the word  
of my pulse, loving and ordinary  
Send out your signals, hoist  
your dark scribbled flags  
but take  
my hand

All wars are useless to the dead

My hands are knotted in the rope  
and I cannot sound the bell  
My hands are frozen to the switch  
and I cannot throw it  
The foot is in the wheel

When all is over and we’re lying  
in a stubble of blistered flowers  
eyes gaping, mouths staring  
dusted with crushed arterial blues

I’ll have done nothing  
even for you

**Adrienne Rich “Implosions” – 1968**

~*~

As far as Rose knew there was no self help book written in the history of the universe for a 21st century girl stranded in the early 20th century trying to have a relationship with an alien unknowingly masquerading as a human. That didn’t stop her for searching through the TARDIS library for one though – just in case.

Of course there wasn’t anything of the sort and (despite a very strong desire to do so) she knew that she couldn’t hide in the TARDIS forever. Doubtless John would send people out looking for her if she didn’t return by suppertime and the last thing she needed was for somebody to find a Police Public Call Box sitting benignly in a barn in the English countryside a good forty, fifty years before they were due to appear in London.

That could potentially be a little awkward to explain.

Especially when the inside of said Police Public Call Box was much, much bigger than the outside.

After carefully locking the doors to the time ship and making sure the barn was closed up tight as well, Rose hitched up her voluminous skirts and began the long, slow walk back to the school.

The adrenalin in her system had worn off during her extended stay in the TARDIS and her bad ankle was sore again from when she’d fallen. Even though it was throbbing by the time she got back to Farringham however, Rose didn’t dare go and get Joan to bandage it for her. The woman could read her like a book and really, what had just happened between her and John wasn’t something that she could discuss openly with the other woman.

Marriage troubles were one thing – being terrified of sleeping with your own husband because he was really your alien best friend who was currently being tracked down by a bunch of homicidal aliens and you’d both time-travelled from the future to get away from them? That was just a whole new brand of wackiness that Rose didn’t think Joan would cope with at all.

Wanting to avoid John for as long as she possibly could (and everyone else for that matter too) she took refuge in the common library. Funny, how the place had become such a safe haven for her in the time since she’d come here. The Doctor had always said that there was something comforting about being in the company of books and she had to admit that she was really beginning to see his point. How else could you explain the fact that she didn’t even mind the monotony of book re-shelving anymore even though most other repetitive tasks made her want to bang her head up against a wall from boredom?

But there were only so many books to shelve on a Saturday and all too soon she ran out of things to tidy. At a loss and still trying desperately not to think about what was to come later, Rose plucked a book from the shelves at random and settled down with it only to quickly rediscover why she didn’t much like reading in the first place – especially not the books in this particular library. Most of them were all but indecipherable to her, all ridiculously long words and stupidly constructed sentences that made no logical or grammatical sense. Well, at least not as far as she was concerned.

After slogging through various volumes of fiction searching for something halfway tolerable and finding nothing worth her time, she tried the nonfiction section instead. Science and mathematics and history weren’t really much better than flowery 18th and 19th century prose, but thankfully she had barely settled down with a stack of random books to peruse when her afternoon tea arrived.

She brightened for a while then, especially when she discovered the presence of some rather magnificent scones. But it didn’t take long after she’d scoffed them down before her belly started grumbling protestations at her again – she had missed out on lunch after all. Ignoring it, she set to a book about Astronomy and had stoically managed her way through three whole chapters before she was interrupted by Jenny who had come to take her afternoon tea tray away again.

“I thought you and Professor Smith were going on a picnic lunch today?” the maid observed lightly, but underneath the nonchalant tone she looked genuinely concerned and Rose went from calm to upset again in the blink of an eye.

She didn’t _want_ to think about what had happened with John, what was still to come between them. Even so she was a little shocked when she found herself dismissing Jenny with all the casual bluntness that a woman of her supposed status was expected to show towards serving staff.

“Thank you Jenny,” she said stiffly. “That’ll be all.”

Jenny’s friendly smile fell instantly. “Yes Mrs Smith,” she said, dropping back into her usual, subservient manner automatically.

She scurried out of the library with head bowed and Rose had to physically bite down on her lip to stop herself from calling her back in to apologise. She felt awful speaking to poor Jenny in such a way, knowing all too well herself what it was like to have to suck it up to people who had more money and power than you did.

She hated the fact that she was now expected to play the role of someone who behaved like that. Even more than that though, she hated how she was using her newfound status as a way to make her own ends meet. It was manipulative and horrible and it was making her act in a hurtful way towards perfectly nice people that she had come to really like.

More miserable by now than she had been all day, she finally gave up on hiding (and in to her growling stomach) when the nosy maid from the other day came to tell her quite pointedly that her husband was waiting for her upstairs so that they could take supper together.

Rose took her time, dragging her feet up the stairs like a woman condemned. In a way, she supposed she was. Her palms were so sweaty by the time she managed to reach their room that she had to wipe her hands on her skirt before she could even turn the brass doorknob.

Their evening meal was a silent, awkward affair, most of which Rose spent going over and over the conversation she’d had with her mum in the TARDIS. After a lengthy explanation of the situation she had actually felt a lot better about it all, and had then waited patiently while her mother mulled it all over.

When Jackie finally spoke, it was not the sort of response Rose had been hoping for.

“Listen sweetheart,” she’d begun diplomatically. “It’s really none of my business what you two...”

“Mum!” Rose exploded, doing her best not to burst out into tears again. “I need help! What the hell do I do?”

On the other end of the line Jackie was silent for a long moment and then she sighed.

“Oh Rose,” she said sympathetically. “I really dunno sweetheart. I’ve had lots of relationships before but nothing like what you’ve got with him. Just...”

Rose snuffled and gripped her mobile a little tighter.

“Just do what feels right – what feels best for you yeah? It’ll work itself out in the end. Things always do one way or the other. And he’d forgive you anything, that Doctor of yours.”

Rose felt her heart clench and her lip wobbled abruptly. She bit down to stop it from shaking but the action didn’t help abate the uncomfortable pressure in her chest. She’d been so certain that her mother would make her feel better, would be able to help, but Rose felt just as confused as she had before ringing her. What was even stupider was that Jackie was so renowned for giving out advice left right and centre whether it was wanted or not. Now, for the first time ever, she was stumped.

“Look I’m sorry sweetheart,” Jackie apologised, correctly interpreting her daughter’s silence. “Really I am. But honestly, what can I do when I’m here and you’re in blooming _1913_ of all places!”

“Yeah.” Rose barked the word out as a harsh laugh and her mother grew sympathetic again.

“You’ll sort it out love,” she told Rose gently. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” Rose repeated, voice short. “S’pose I’d better go. Love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart. Take care of yourself. And him,” Jackie added as an afterthought.

Rose nearly started crying all over again when her mother ended the call.

Now she waited on tenterhooks for John to broach the subject with her himself. The fact that he hadn’t yet was making her incredibly nervous. It was though he was waiting for something from her, a signal of some kind. But he didn’t speak at all until after their supper tray had been taken away, the fire guard put up and they had changed into their night clothes. Rose lingered by the mantel a while, idly thumbing the edge of the silver pocket watch resting there as John finished buttoning his pyjama top and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

Rose waited for him to speak.

_“GET DOWN!”_

_She fell hard. The metal grating bit deep into the soft skin of her palms and the impact jarred both of her wrists painfully but otherwise she was unscathed. Really, she’d had worse._

_“Blimey that’s gotta be a new record hasn’t it?” Rose said breathlessly from where she lay, face down on the floor. “Barely outside the TARDIS for five seconds before we start getting shot at...”_

_The Doctor was flat on his face beside her too but he quickly pushed to his feet and wasted no time in dragging Rose up too._

_“Did they see you?” he demanded, gripping her shoulders tighter than was probably strictly necessary._

_“Oh that’s nice,” she said sarcastically. “Throw me face first into the grating and then don’t even ask if I’m alright...”_

_“Rose I am really not kidding around here, now did they see you or not?”_

_“I-”_

_The Doctor snapped. “DID THEY SEE YOU?!”_

_Rose flinched. “I-I don’t...no. They can’t’ve. You were in front of me the whole time and as soon as you told me to get back in the TARDIS...” she trailed off as he bolted to the console and took off with absolutely no preamble whatsoever. “Doctor?”_

_“Come on come on come...augh! They’re following us!”_

_Rose straightened herself out a little, staggering slightly against the turbulence of the Vortex as she moved to join him. She peered at the view screen over his shoulder with a slight frown, one hand resting on his arm to help steady her. “I didn’t think anything _could_ follow the TARDIS. Not when she’s in the vortex anyways.”_

_“They’re using stolen technology,” the Doctor explained in a terse voice as his fingers flew across the controls, the symbols on the screen spinning dizzily in concentric patterns. “A Time Agent’s vortex manipulator – like the one Jack had. With that they can follow us all the way across the universe.” He stopped suddenly and rocked back on his heels, unbridled horror on his face. “Anywhere we go they’ll be able to find us. Anywhere, anywhen. Unless...”_

_Rose waited for a long moment in case he started speaking before she took the bait. He liked a good dramatic pause sometimes, this Doctor. “Unless what?” she prompted._

_“I’ll have to do it,” the Doctor realised softly, not really listening to her as he ran a hand through his hair once and then again absently._

_“Do_ what _?” Rose pressed him again and he turned to her abruptly._

_“Rose,” he said, very seriously. “I need to ask you something. This is important – really important okay?”_

_Rose nodded. It wasn’t often that he got as serious as this, but when he did she knew that it was no time to be mucking about. “Yeah,” she said instantly. “Course.”_

_The question that came next was not what she had expected._

_“Do you trust me?”_

_She was instantly indignant. “What sort of question’s that? Course I trust you!”_

_“How much?” the Doctor pressed._

_Rose had to remind herself briefly not to be offended that he even had to ask her. “I’d trust you with my life,” she said simply. “Any day. You _know_ that.”_

_“Good,” the Doctor said, hunting through a small compartment hidden under the console that Rose had never noticed before. “Because now I’m going to trust you with mine. Completely.”_

_Rose blinked as the Doctor pulled out a silver fob watch engraved with a pattern of circles just like the symbols on the console display. “Wait...what?”_

_The Doctor brandished the time piece at her. “You’re going to need this. Now listen carefully Rose – this watch? Is me.”_

_“Okay.” She said, nodding and taking the watch from him briefly to inspect it a little closer. “Right. Yep. The watch is...you.”_

_He waited impatiently, one leg jiggling restlessly as she turned the watch over in her hand and then finally gave in._

_“No wait, hang on – sorry,” she admitted, clueless. “I don’t get it. Like...at all. How’s this watch _you_?”_

_But the Doctor was already in motion again, snatching it out of her hands and tackling the console with renewed vigour. “Well it’s...ah, complicated.” He said, quite helpfully not explaining anything at all. “Anyway, you’re going to have to keep me safe and to do that you’re going to have to take care of the watch because those creatures, those beings that were shooting at us, if I’m not mistaken then they’re called the Family. The Family of Blood in fact...”_

_“Brilliant.” Rose muttered but the Doctor wasn’t listening, still preoccupied with his own explanation._

_“...and they’re hunters – like bloodhounds. Use their sense of smell to track down viable energy sources to absorb, extend their lifespan. If I can’t find a way to hide myself then they’ll sniff me out and hunt me down and use my regenerative energy to make themselves immortal.”_

_Rose grimaced. “Right,” she said. “And that’s bad yeah?”_

_“Oh yes.” He said softly. “That’s very bad. Very, very bad in fact.”_

_Rose nodded again. “So what are we gonna do then?”_

_Abruptly, the Doctor stopped and stood still, facing her._

_“I’m going to stop being a Time Lord.” He told her. “I’m gonna become human.”_

_“You...you’re gonna...” Rose gaped awhile as he returned to the console yet again. “Wait, how d’you make yourself human? And why didn’t you ever tell me you could turn yourself human in the first place? Doctor...”_

_“Cos I never thought I’d have to use it,” he said vaguely, before looking up sharply. “Funny...I’ve always wondered...”_

_Rose followed his gaze and what she saw made her stomach twist into a variety of knots._

_“What_ is _that thing?” she whispered._

_“Chameleon Arch.” The Doctor told her even as he reached up and tugged the strange looking headpiece down towards himself. He immediately began to check it over with sure fingers. “It rewrites my biology. Literally changes every single cell in my body.”_

_“What, like when you regenerated?” A terrifying thought suddenly occurred to her. “Oh my god – it won’t make you change bodies again will it?”_

_“Hmmn? No! No, no, no not like that,” the Doctor rushed to reassure her. “It just changes me into a human.”_

_“So...you’ll still be you?” Rose said hopefully. “Only in a human body yeah?”_

_The Doctor grimaced as he snapped the watch into place on the device. “Not quite. The TARDIS’ll make up a history for me and find somewhere to integrate me but I’ll need you to look after yourself, try and integrate as best you can. Hopefully I won’t be completely thick as a human and I’ll have enough residual awareness to let you in but I can’t promise that...are you alright?”_

_Rose shook her head fervently. “Terrified!” she squeaked._

_“You’ll be fine.” The Doctor said confidently, carefully putting the Chameleon Arch onto his head and adjusting it._

_“Hope so.” Rose muttered._

_The Doctor said nothing for a moment, adjusting a few more settings before finally turning to her._

_“Rose?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_She expected him to grin, to ask her to wish him luck or make some terrible pun about getting to see things from the other side or having the shoe on the other foot or something daft like that. Instead he just looked scared, _really_ scared – and that look alone frightened her more than anything else he’d told her that day._

_“I’m sorry,” he apologised, his gaze hollow. “I’m really so very sorry Rose but...I don’t think this is going to be very pleasant for you to watch.”_

_A few seconds later she knew why._

Rose’s hand shook a little as she turned the tarnished fob watch over and then back again, the memory of the Doctor’s pained screams filling the heavy silence that had settled between where she stood at the mantel and where John sat on their bed.

Eventually she stopped her fidgeting.

John spoke up almost immediately.

“Where were you earlier?” he enquired softly, and although his voice was even and had no trace of malice in it Rose still cringed when he addressed her. “Where did you go after you left me?”

“I just...went for a quick walk.” She lied.

“Yes you did walk very fast didn’t you?” John said, his voice surprisingly cold. Rose began to fidget with the watch again. “Four hours you were gone.”

The lie she told him in response sounded ridiculously lame, even to Rose. “I needed to...clear my head.”

“Because being outside had clouded it?” John snapped at her and then stilled. “I’m sorry,” he apologised softly. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice to you.”

Rose considered shaking him by the shoulders until he did it again. God knows she felt like she deserved to be yelled at right now – she’d mucked everything right up. Instead, John just sat there on their bed looking miserable and small.

“John...” she moved across the room and sat beside him gingerly but he turned his face away from her with a deep frown. Rose flinched at the snub and then sat very still, uncertain as to what to do next, what to say. “I’m sorry.” she finally mumbled.

“Don’t,” he stood suddenly, moving to the desk and rearranging the papers on it as though his life depended on it. “Please don’t. It simply isn’t fair of you to apologise to me. You must know how guilty it makes me feel.”

“Guilty?” Rose echoed blankly. Why would _John_ be feeling guilty?

“I always knew it would be...difficult.” John admitted, abandoning his papers and bracing himself against the edge of the desk momentarily. “Having such a young wife...” turning back to her he fixed Rose with a surprisingly intense gaze. “...a beautiful wife. I never dreamed...”

Abruptly he turned back to his desk and began lining up writing utensils with shaking hands, re-arranging stacks of paper and reference books.

“At times you are wild,” he admitted and even from where she was sitting she could see his cheeks flushing. “You can be so exciting, so outrageous. And then quite without warning you become coy, flighty...you’re still so young.” He stopped short and turned to her, a book still absently clutched in one hand. “I fear...I am afraid that I am too old for you. The dusty historian and the beautiful young girl.”

“Oh come off it,” Rose began, scoffing at him. “You’re not _that_ old...”

“But I _feel_ it,” he insisted, taking his place beside her again on the bed. “And I also quite often feel as though you’re...well, _frightened_ of me.”

“Frightened?” Rose let loose a laugh that startled John so much that he actually jumped. “You don’t _scare_ me John! Why would you think-?”

“Yes I do.” John interrupted simply. “I love you. And that terrifies you for reasons that I simply cannot fathom.”

Rose’s heart stumbled in her chest. It was the first time that John had openly used those three particular words to describe his feelings for her and she simply wasn’t prepared for her reaction to them. Ridiculously, she felt close to tears, as though it were a deathbed confession and not uttered in their shared bed chamber, on their marital bed.

“That’s why you asked me to read to you all those times I presume?” John said and his voice wasn’t angry at all, but gentle with concern. “Why you always had some excuse ready to make me stop if I grew too amorous? You were afraid of the way I touched you.”

As he spoke, John shifted a little closer and then placed his hand on her thigh. Rose suddenly found she couldn’t breathe properly. “I-”

“You were afraid of the way I wanted you,” John continued in a soft, low voice. Rose watched, mesmerised, as his fingers gently brushed the skin of her leg through the thin fabric of her nightdress. Her whole mouth was dry and she had to swallow hard to moisten it again. “You needn’t have been afraid Rose – I would never dream of hurting you.”

“I know,” she said hurriedly, trying desperately to stop her voice from hitching as she spoke but he was still touching her and the sensation was halfway between arousing and excruciatingly ticklish and she was finding it difficult to focus on anything other than how much those two particular feelings lent themselves to each other. “ _Really_. But...”

“And I must admit I think it ludicrous,” John said, his voice soft and full of pain. “That I should not go to bed with my wife because she is afraid of me.”

“It’s not...” Rose tried very hard to ignore the way his fingers were still brushing against her leg. He just wasn’t getting it and she couldn’t very well tell him outright. She began to stammer. “I-I don’t...I mean – oh god,” she blurted, body tensing, ready to bolt again. “I don’t think I can do this John.”

“We used to be so very happy,” he said softly, either not hearing her or just ignoring her. “Before we were married – do you remember?”

“John...” Rose began bleakly.

“Has so much changed between us?” he wondered aloud. “I just can’t think what possible ill I could have done you to turn your love to scorn...”

“God now you think you’re bloody Shakespeare!” Rose exploded, the force of her words propelling her onto her feet. She resisted the urge, while she was on them, to run from him again. At this stage it wouldn’t achieve anything – she just had to stick through whatever came next. “I don’t hate you alright?” she managed. “I just...I can’t.”

John was silent for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was hollow. “Is it the guns again?”

For a fleeting moment Rose considered lying, but found herself shaking her head instead. She always had been an awful liar. And after the way she’d treated Jenny earlier she couldn’t bring herself to be so cold to John when he was so obviously hurting and confused by her rejection.

“That’s not your fault.” She said, eyes downcast.

“Then why?” he said bleakly, pushing himself up to stand beside her. Rose turned to face him and immediately softened when she saw just how miserable he looked. “Do you not want me?”

“I...it’s not...” she shook her head, tears suddenly spilling over her lower lids and rolling down her cheeks. “I can’t do this because it’s not _real_ John.”

“How can you tell me that what I feel for you isn’t real?” he looked even more upset now and Rose felt her guilt intensify like a knife twist in the gut.

“But it’s not!” she insisted, sobs twisting her voice now. “Look I-I just...I don’t want you to regret anything we do together alright?”

John stared at her disbelievingly. “How could I ever regret loving you?” he pressed a hand to her cheek and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “Rose,” he said warmly and heat flooded through her. “My precious Rose. You are _everything_ to me.”

“S’just words,” Rose whispered as John tenderly thumbed the tears from her sodden cheek. “They don’t mean anything.”

John said nothing at first, simply cradled her face and wiped her tears away even as more came.

“Then if you will not let me use words,” he decided. “I shall just have to show you instead.”

He leant down, tilting his head the better to meet his lips to hers. Their noses bumped together gently regardless, but that certainly didn’t stop him from deepening the kiss. Nor did it stop him from caressing her hair, her neck, her shoulders...

Not one to be swept off her feet by mere kisses, Rose was surprised to feel her knees wobble underneath her as he gently tugged her body flush against his own. She already knew from experience that John was an excellent kisser, but he had left behind his usual chasteness for a firmer assertion that soon had her relinquishing to him and returning in kind.

“Oh!” she gasped aloud into his mouth and he halted the kiss immediately but didn’t slacken his grip on her, hands pressed against her upper back the better to hold her to him.

“Please,” he said softly, breath puffing against her skin. “Please...Rose...I promise I’ll be gentle, so gentle...”

As he spoke, his hands moved back around to her front and began slowly undoing the buttons at the neck of her thin nightdress. Rose didn’t try to stop him, merely breathed raggedly as he paused to slide the fabric off her shoulders, baring her to him inch by inch.

“Oh but you’re beautiful!” he breathed reverently, surveying the skin that he had revealed in the soft, golden light from the lamps. Rose felt her body flood with warmth even as her heart clenched with cold fear. “So beautiful...”

“We-we can’t!” she whispered, taking hold of his wrists, a futile gesture really being as her nightdress was almost completely off now. John’s dark eyes drank her in lovingly as he gently prised her hands away from his wrists. Her nightgown fell to the floor and Rose swallowed and shut her eyes momentarily, tears threatening again. “John,” she whimpered. “ _Please_.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he reassured her, caressing her skin with the back of one hand and making her shiver with anticipation. Astonished, she realised that she was actually physically _trembling_ – from want or fear she couldn’t tell. “I won’t hurt you.”

When Rose finally dared to meet his gaze she found it so tender that she felt her knees wobble all over again. What the hell was wrong with her? Since when had she become some swoony Jane Austen heroine? What had happened to Rose Tyler, destroyer of the Daleks, twenty-first century woman and time traveller extraordinaire?

But then John kissed her again and she forgot to be disgusted with herself as she felt a totally unexpected and very daring slide of his tongue against her lips. Unthinkingly, she opened her mouth to his and their kiss became suddenly messy. Gasping at her forwardness, John allowed himself to be pushed backwards towards the bed but once there he extricated himself from her embrace in order to dispose of his pyjamas.

Rose tried to help him with the buttons on his shirt, her fingers numb with acceptance, but he refused to relinquish that control to her either and soon enough he was laying her down on the bed with a reverence that brought tears to her eyes.

Rose was certainly no blushing virgin but she had never been treated like this before, as though she was the most precious woman in the whole world. She was used to clumsy rough and tumble, not barely-there caresses and sweet nothings in her ear.

“Beautiful,” John whispered, tracing the lines of her body as he admired her. “Oh beautiful...”

Rose didn’t dare look at him and so when she felt his naked hip touch hers briefly she couldn’t help but gasp out loud. She felt him moving over her carefully, then his lips at her ear, his warm hand against her side.

“Rose,” he whispered roughly in her ear and she shivered, all over goose pimples at the possessive tone in his voice. It was like every fantasy she’d ever had about the Doctor and yet it wasn’t anywhere near right. As soon as she’d had the thought however, John moaned softly in her ear and she really couldn’t stop the soft keening noise she gave him in answer. “Ohhh... _my_ Rose.”

“D-” Rose began to stammer, her breath hiccupping as his warm weight pressed down invitingly against her body, as his hand hushed from her waist to find purchase at her hip. She was worrying still about the Doctor and what he would think of her, was beginning to panic about contraceptives and accidental pregnancies (oh god what if she ended up _pregnant_? He’d leave her at home for sure) but she was too far gone now to stop.

How on Earth could she possibly stop this now?

“D-D-oh god _please_!”

John hushed her, fingers splayed delicately over the jut of her pelvic bone, the swell of flesh at her hip, the smoothness of the skin there. “Do you want this?”

Ignoring the wash of cold fear that even now was making her insides feel like they were shrivelling up, Rose licked her lips and blurted out her assent.

Yes. Yes she wanted this. She wanted him.

John sighed, truly content, and his hand left her hip and slipped instead between their bodies.

“I love you.”

Rose cried out softly at his touch and then gasped his name. “J-John!”

And from that moment on, he needed no further encouragement.

 

~*~

  
_She had finally reached one of the doors without obstruction but it wouldn’t yield to hand nor key. Crying out in frustration she beat at it with her palms awhile before pressing herself right up against it, the whole length of her body flush with the surface of the door._

_There was only silence from the other side._

_“Doctor?” she cried out, afraid. “Doctor!”_

_When his voice came she thought she might collapse with relief._

_That was, until she realised what he was saying._

_“Not time yet Rose,” he whispered through the keyhole. “Not time.”_

_She recoiled from the locked door but she could still hear him regardless, whispering to her, the same three words over and over again._

_“Not time yet, not time. Not time, not time yet, not time.”_

_“Not time yet,” a second voice joined in and she turned to see John standing sadly there, in pinstripes one second and tweed the next. He flickered a little, like static as he did so. Reaching for her, he cupped her cheek in his palm apologetically. “Not time yet Rose, not time.”_

_As she looked up at him the laces of her corset drew in tight and then released with a sound like an elastic band snapping. Her clothes fell away, leaving her in nothing but her own skin._

_“Not time yet.” John shook his head at her sadly and this time, this dream, his voice was his own as he put his arms around her and embraced her. “Not time. Not time. Not time.”_

_Rose leant into the welcome warmth of him, suppressing a quiet sob as she closed her eyes against her tears._

_The watch in her hand tick-tick-tick-tick-ticked at double the speed but the hands were spinning backwards._

_From the other side of the door the Doctor tapped his fingertips as he waited, a soft pitter-ta-pat, pitter-ta-pat..._

Rose opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the dull light of a grey sky morning. The rain had started again during the early hours of the morning and the patter of it against the windows had now woken her, fingers twitching where they gripped her pillow as tight as she had held John in her dream.

_John._

The previous night’s events came back to her in a great rush of memory and she was suddenly a lot more awake as she wriggled around to face him.

He was asleep, deeply so, and Rose marvelled at how peaceful he looked. She’d rarely seen the Doctor in such a relaxed state before unless he was unconscious. The very few times she’d seen him sleeping he’d been quick to wake and even quicker to say that he’d only been meditating or he’d just shut his eyes for a moment, just a catnap really, so he could recharge the batteries so to speak.

But John slept deep with no inhibitions and so she was free to look, to think, to feel. God, _feel_. After the previous night there were so many things she was sure she should be feeling – guilty, awkward, maybe even a little disgusted with herself. What she was _actually_ feeling though honestly surprised her.

Last night every caress she had bestowed upon John had felt like a betrayal and when she lay in his arms afterwards, even with her skin warm and her body sated, her insides had just felt cold and awful. She’d then spent a good portion of time crying her eyes out and trying desperately not to let on. She wasn’t fool enough to believe that she could possibly pass them off as tears of happiness. These were cold, bitter tears for something that she would have gladly given to the Doctor and instead now belonged to an interloper with his face.

At least that’s how she’d felt at the time.

A night of fitful dreams full of endless corridors of locked doors and John pulling her away whenever she thought she might have been close to the Doctor and now she was reaching out to John’s freckled cheek without the slightest inhibition. When she finally touched him she felt not guilt or fear, but warmth from the inside out and she had to wonder where exactly this sudden feeling of comfort had come from. It wasn’t like sex was some magic catalyst that made you fall in love overnight, but what she was feeling right now was certainly more than just an afterglow.

Then again it had been an exceptionally long time since she had done...well _that_ with anyone. At times it had definitely been more than a little uncomfortable but John had not entirely surprised her by being a caring and considerate lover – always backing off if he felt he was being too rough with her and encouraging her with gentle whispers and soft touches until she finally came apart in his embrace.

She wouldn’t deny that she had enjoyed the physical side, in a way. But being with John was so much like what she had imagined it might be like to be with the Doctor that it had also been painful at times. The physical sensation of his narrow hips pressed against hers, his brilliant hair tickling her every time he bent his head to touch his lips to her skin... And then there were the words that had come from his mouth as he moved with her.

They were all John, those sweet nothings – whispered adulations of love that would’ve made any other man she’d ever met blush furiously.

The Doctor had never, would never say those things to her and at times she had honestly wished that John would just shut up and stop ruining it for her.

Not exactly the nicest reaction in the world but that was honestly how she had felt. Thus the crying and the weird recurring dream she’d fallen back into every time she closed her eyes. Idly she wondered if it wasn’t the dreams that had changed her, because really, what else could it be? Right now everything just felt... _right_.

It just felt so natural to be in his arms, to be able to breathe and share each breath with him. Never mind whether he was the Doctor or John Smith or some strange mix of the two – right here and now she felt comfortable, safe.

Loved.

Oh there was still a tiny bit of guilt overshadowing all of the good feelings of course, but she couldn’t help what had already been done could she? In the end she hadn’t really had much of a choice. She felt a flutter of uncertainty as to what the Doctor might think of that particular assumption when he woke up but just as quickly found herself comforted by her mother’s words. Jackie had been right when she’d said he’d forgive her anything. Especially, she thought, if she’d done it with the intention of keeping him safe.

He’d understand. He’d just have to. It wasn’t like she’d _chosen_ to be John’s wife.

And speaking of John, the poor man only had another month or so left to live. Didn’t he deserve to spend it properly with the woman he loved? Because he did – love her that was. She had given up on the idea that his feelings for her might have been fabricated a while back now. He cared too deeply and genuinely for Rose and her wellbeing for her to believe otherwise.

How much of this affection came from the Doctor she didn’t know and she found that she didn’t much care either. What she did know was that she was only just beginning to realise that despite her feelings for the Doctor she very much cared for John as well. Although she couldn’t let John live the rest of his life out with her she could give him something to make his existence worthwhile in the meantime.

Snuggling into him carefully, Rose breathed in deep as John stirred. Still half asleep himself he began to cuddle her back instinctively and for a moment she half expected him to speak, to mumble that he loved her or say good morning or any other myriad of things.

Thankfully he didn’t say a word. Instead he pressed a clumsy kiss to her eyebrow and gently stroked her skin as he relaxed back into sleep again.

Rose relaxed and let her eyes drift shut too.

Maybe, she decided as she fell back into sleep, some things just were what they were.

And who was she to question them when they felt right?


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge huge HUGE apologies for the massive gap between chapters! Real life just came up and bit me in the ass in a rather major way in the past few weeks and my muse completely hated this chapter and wouldn't cooperate at ALL. Majorly frustrating. I've been writing lots of stuff for [](http://then-theres-us.livejournal.com/profile)[then_theres_us](http://then-theres-us.livejournal.com/) to get my writing mojo back into gear and apparently it's worked because - hurrah! - new chapter for you all. Anyway, the exciting stuff all starts to happen from here so I hope you forgive me for the long wait and enjoy the final few chapters of this. I think there will be between 3-5 more to go after this one and maybe an epilogue but I'm still not 100%. Enjoy and much grovelling apologies and love, sapph xoxox

One thing Rose learned very quickly about John was that he was certainly no Time Lord. The Doctor might have had all the restraint of the most prudish saint when it came to matters of true physical intimacy, but John was very much a man and he _very_ much enjoyed being with his wife.

That was not to say that he wasn’t still quite reserved in regards to sex. Rose had had to stop herself several times from trying out anything too ‘twenty-first century’ with him in the bedroom lest she scandalise the poor man. It honestly made her laugh when she managed to shock him merely by having the gall to touch him back the way that he touched her, especially when she’d been so skittish around him for so long.

Now that she’d finally given in to his affections however, Rose felt a great amount of relief. Just as she had seized the opportunity to find out more about the Doctor through John’s dreams, so too now did she seize the opportunity to be with him in a more physical capacity. Maybe she would regret her actions later but right now she was making the most of things as they were.

And who knew – John’s feelings had to come from somewhere didn’t they? Who was to say that they weren’t just a result of the Doctor’s own feelings for her leaking through? The thought made her pulse quicken, and quite aside from holding herself back with John, she began to truly let go when she was with him.

If this was the only chance she was ever going to get to love her Doctor, unabashed and with no boundaries then she was going to take it – whatever the consequences.

The final days of October disappeared like sand through an hourglass and as they travelled into November together John remained utterly, blissfully happy. Every time he caught her eye he would just _beam_ – teeth and all! In the face of such obvious delight Rose couldn’t help but smile back at him. She was happy too, and truly content for the first time since she’d landed here. In addition, she was also finally comfortable enough to get around in this time without feeling like a fool.

Take her wardrobe. Rose still wasn’t completely proficient with the whole hats and gloves situation but after two months straight of going to church every Sunday she was finally getting there. Church too had become a lot more enjoyable. After weeks of trying to mumble unfamiliar songs and prayers under her breath Rose was now getting to know some of the more popular hymns and prayers and was quite happy to join in when the service called for it.

The first Sunday in November found her amongst the crowd of people leaving the small church, arm in arm with John and elated at the fact that the final hymn they’d sung had been one that she’d known. Normally John was shy about singing (he hummed a lot as he shaved but drew the line there) but in church he didn’t hesitate to raise his fine, tenor voice to meet hers. Rose loved listening to him and was on the verge of telling him so when they stepped out into a light drizzle of rain.

Frowning, Rose used her free hand to fuss with her suddenly soggy hat and John quickly put his on too before remembering that he actually had an umbrella.

“I’ve been thinking about Christmas,” he said abruptly as he fumbled with it.

“Sorry?” Rose said, certain she had misheard him over the rain and through the brim of her hat.

“Christmas,” John repeated as he finally managed to open the umbrella. They ducked underneath it together and Rose noticed that for once he wasn’t smiling, but rather looked quite nervous. Unused to seeing that particular expression on his face she jostled him a little, trying to get a smile out of him.

“What about it?”

“Well it’s only...well I was hoping that perhaps...” John stuttered out only to be interrupted by the Headmaster who had stopped in the rain and all to bid them good morning. As usual he all but ignored Rose and instead spoke to John almost exclusively. Doing her best not to start rolling her eyes or tapping her foot impatiently Rose cast her eyes about for a distraction and almost immediately saw Joan exiting the church, huddled underneath her own battered umbrella.

“Joan!” she called out. The Matron turned and upon spotting Rose she made her way over, carefully skirting puddles as she went.

“Hello Rose,” she said, smiling. “Did you enjoy the sermon this morning?”

Rose shrugged. Up until now she’d never _been_ to church and therefore couldn’t really be counted upon to judge such things. “It was alright I suppose,” she conceded before glancing up at the rain with a grimace. “It might’ve been nice if the Almighty waited ’til after we got back inside to turn on the waterworks though.”

Joan chuckled as she too eyed the rain. “They do say he moves in mysterious ways.”

“Yeah,” Rose said moodily, shooting a glance at Rocastle who was still waylaying John. It was a shame that she didn’t really believe in God otherwise right now she’d be praying for John to start channelling some of the Doctor’s rudeness and excuse himself abruptly from the conversation. She really wanted to get back inside so they could dry off and get comfortable again. She also knew that John had some new dreams to recount as well and she was itching to hear them but his good manners meant that they could be here for ages yet.

Joan’s eyes followed Rose’s, flickering over Rocastle and John’s boring small talk before returning her gaze to Rose. She offered a sympathetic lift of the eyebrows and Rose rolled her eyes in response. _Men_. Joan smiled gently and then a gleam entered her eyes as she leant forward to gently interrupt the two men.

“Excuse me, Headmaster,” she said, her soft voice somehow clear and audible even above the drumming of rain. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you?”

Rocastle blinked at the interruption but quickly recovered his wits. “Oh yes. Very well Matron. I bid you good day Mr Smith,” he nodded his head in farewell to each of them in turn. “Mrs Smith.”

“Good day,” John tipped his hat cordially. Rose was a little hastier.

“Yeah bye,” she said quickly and all but manhandled John away, snugged up against his side under the umbrella so she wouldn’t get wet.

“I wonder what the Matron had to speak to the Headmaster about?” John wondered as they tramped through the rain together, Rose secretly thrilling at the way Joan had come through for her. She _so_ owed her a cup of tea after that. “Perhaps one of the boys has been taken ill? I know that Jenkins wasn’t himself on Friday and several of the other boys have been sniffling and carrying on in class...”

“What, Charlie Jenkins? He’s probably just got a cold coming on,” Rose said dismissively. “Half the boys are goin’ about sniffing at the moment. Must be something going around.”

“Yes it does seem that way doesn’t it?” John admitted and then frowned. “I do hope that it doesn’t spread to the staff. There is nothing I hate more than being unwell.”

“Not even having to listen to Rocastle go on about class schedules in the pouring rain?” Rose said archly and when John shot her a reproachful look she couldn’t help but add, “Oh go on, you can’t tell me that you like getting talked at all the time by him.”

“Regardless of whether I like it or not he is still my employer,” John said in as stern a voice as he could muster after he’d just misjudged the depth of a puddle and ended up doing an inelegant little skip-shuffle sideways into her to avoid soaking his trouser bottoms. “And yours as well I might add.”

“Yeah and don’t I know it,” Rose muttered condescendingly. “My lord and master more like.”

They walked along in silence for several paces before Rose realised that John was watching her, waiting for her to elaborate. Sighing a little, she did so.

“You’re going to think it’s stupid but it’s just...well he pretty much ignores me unless I’ve done something wrong. Or he’ll say hello, goodbye if he has to but that’s it. He’s never spoken more than a half dozen proper words to me at a time.”

“Really? I-I actually hadn’t noticed,” John said, and he looked honestly surprised.

“Yeah well. That’s probably cos he’s usually too busy talking to you for you to notice,” Rose said, but not unkindly. “Joan and me though – Matron Redfern I mean – we’ve got a bit of a partnership going on now. Look out for each other, help get you away from Rocastle before he bores you to tears...”

John looked delightfully scandalised. “Have you been actively conspiring to keep me away from the Headmaster?”

Rose grinned. “Well yeah. But only cos I want you all to myself.”

That made John laugh and he dared to stop and kiss her softly before they continued on, hurrying along through the rain.

Later, as they dried themselves out in front of the fireplace, Rose suddenly remembered.

“What were you saying before about Christmas?” she pressed.

“Sorry?” John frowned from where he stood wringing out his socks, but then his eyes lit up in remembrance. “Oh yes! I was going to ask...actually I’ve lost it now. Erm...”

“Don’t stress then,” Rose soothed, too used to him losing his train of thought mid-sentence to be worried. “It’ll come back.”

John frowned even deeper than before. “No but I remember – it was important, it was...Christmas, Christmas, Christmas...Oh! I remember now! I-look I know that you probably don’t want to stay down here for the holidays but I’ve been thinking about train tickets lately...”

“Train tickets?” Rose blinked. “We going somewhere?”

“Yes. Well that’s just the thing you see,” John admitted, red-faced. “It’s all so very... _expensive_ to travel to London, especially at that time of year and I was wondering...was rather hoping...I mean if you’d rather not then I completely understand, of course I do but it’s just...rather...w-well...”

“John,” Rose interrupted gently. “Stop babbling. Just tell me yeah?”

“Oh.” He said uncomfortably. “Yes. Well. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind spending Christmas here? At Farringham? Or in the village perhaps? I know your mother will be expecting us to spend the holidays with her but I was rather hoping we could spend Christmas together. Without her. Not that I don’t enjoy your mothers company!” he added hastily. “But the tickets to London will be so awfully expensive and we can always go back in the summer for a visit if you’d like. I just...I think it would be rather nice to have a Christmas to ourselves – don’t you?”

He gazed imploringly at her. If it had been the Doctor she would have suspected that he was just trying to get out of seeing her mother. With John...well she was actually quite glad he’d suggested it. She had a feeling that train tickets took a while to be ordered here (or whatever you had to do to get them) and she didn’t need John ordering them and wasting money when she knew that they definitely weren’t going to be able to find her mother in London.

Well. Not unless the Doctor was flying them there in the TARDIS.

“Okay,” she said simply and John stared at her in amazement. “What?”

“I-I just...well I thought you might be a little more upset with me,” he stammered. “I know you don’t like it when people upset your mother and I’ve always been...inadvertently...well. Very good. At that.”

Rose regarded John’s red face a moment and then grinned in realisation.

“You’re scared of my mum.”

John spluttered. “Scared? O-of your...? Of course I’m not. Preposterous. She’s a...lovely. Lady.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly and Rose couldn’t help but laugh.

“You are _such_ a bad liar,” she said fondly before remembering, “Oh, she sends her best to you actually.”

“Who?”

“My mum.”

John’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Rose said. “I spoke to her the other week.”

“Spoke?” John’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you mean on the telephone? Did the Headmaster give you permission to make a personal telephone call or...” he choked off his words then and suddenly looked quite ill. “Oh my goodness,” he breathed, horror struck. “ _Please_ do not say that you and the Matron have been sneaking around behind his back making telephone calls to London!”

“What?” Rose managed before she realised her mistake. For a moment she was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to smack herself in the head for being so stupid. “No! No, no, no. I got a _letter_ from her and it’s... _kind_ of like...talking to her. Anyway it’s fine yeah? I’ll just have to write back and tell her we aren’t coming for Christmas because we can’t get train tickets. Otherwise she might start buying Turkeys and all sorts...”

“Heaven forbid,” John murmured and Rose swatted his arm gently on Jackie’s behalf and they set their shoes next to each other neatly in front of the fire to dry and then settled in for an afternoon of reading.

It wasn’t until much later that Rose realised – and when she did it hit her like a ton of bricks.

Christmas was well and truly after the date that she was due to open up the watch.

~*~

  
The inclement weather brought on a sudden but not altogether unexpected outbreak of colds amongst the students (and Rocastle too, much to Rose’s delight), but even long hours spent in the infirmary with Joan weren’t enough to stop John from seeking her out at odd times of the day to ask her opinion on various preparations for their Christmas together.

He seemed very determined to make the holiday special for her and so of course every time he mentioned it Rose felt that old familiar guilt creeping up on her once again. She had been torn about having to open the watch and end John’s brief tenure of life for quite some time already. Now she was starting to consider keeping him human for longer than the three months so that he could celebrate his Christmas with her as he so desperately wanted to.

On the one hand, she’d never actually promised the Doctor that she’d open the watch after three months _exactly_. Another month wouldn’t hurt would it? After Christmas she could open the watch and then maybe she could go and do New Years somewhere spectacular with the Doctor – a new beginning for both of them and they could move on again like they always did.

Except she didn’t know how keeping John alive for more than three months might affect the Doctors consciousness – what if being suppressed in the watch for too long damaged or hurt him? The Doctor was already so broken, she couldn’t bear the thought of him being further damaged – and at her own hand no less.

In the same breath though, neither too did she want to just open the watch with little or no ceremony and then move on, pretending like poor John had never even existed. It was too cold she thought, too impersonal an end to this man who loved so sweetly and thought so deep.

The thoughts preyed on her and she was still undecided on the issue of Christmas, searching vainly for another way that she could possibly make it up to John when she discovered the perfect thing – and completely by accident.

Rose had discovered quite early in her travels that it didn’t matter what century you were in or what planet you were on, there were certain constants in most, if not all cultures.

And one of them was dancing.

Not just metaphorical dancing either, but proper dancing, alone and with partners or groups of people, with music and maybe a drink or two and some nibbles if you were lucky. She had to admit that she was also partial to the tradition in the royal court on Galahdrahl wherein the males had to give the women a token of some kind in order to have a dance with her. Usually it was a small precious stone or a sprig of leaves from the Luna-de-Luna plant – the symbol for love on Galahdrahl.

The Doctor had surprised her enormously on that trip by magicking a fragrant blossom seemingly out of thin air and then tucking it charmingly behind her ear. Of course then he’d dragged her out onto the floor and they’d upset the proceedings by clumping right through the middle of all the other couples in a ridiculous sort of dance that had ended up being something like a cross between a tarantella, a salsa and a polka.

How they hadn’t managed to get arrested that night Rose didn’t know. It had been fun though.

After yet another long morning of mopping brows and spooning cough medicine down sickly children’s throats however, Rose was heading down to the library and chanced to see a notice that had been pinned up on the stairwell noticeboard. The second she registered the word ‘dance’ she stepped up eagerly to peruse it.

John was in his shirtsleeves and had a mouth full of pear when she came barrelling into their room several minutes later, brandishing the notice at him excitedly, her librarian duties forgotten.

“John, John – did you see?” Shoving the slightly crumpled piece of paper at him without preamble, she huddled in at his side as he read it, still chewing thoughtfully on his pear. “I saw it on the notice board on the stairs. There’s gonna be a dance in the village next Tuesday night.”

“So there is,” John said mildly, having finally swallowed his mouthful. He scanned the flyer again and Rose waited for the penny to drop. As comprehension slowly dawned on his face, John glanced down at her. “Oh. Would you like to...?”

“Well,” Rose said, leaning up against his side with a coy smile. “Yeah. That is if you can even dance.”

John laughed but then tailed off uncertainly. “I’m not sure actually,” he admitted before wondering aloud, “Did we dance at our wedding?”

“Course we did!” Rose said instantly, but then added with a little less certainty, “Must’ve done. We’ve definitely danced. Right?”

John looked unconvinced but then he smiled down at her, beamed really, and Rose couldn’t help but smile back. His happiness, just like the Doctor’s, was infectious.

And just like the Doctor, he was apparently prone to completely random flights of fancy. Dropping his half eaten pear suddenly, John took her hand and swung her into an impromptu waltz around the room, both of them laughing gaily.

“You _can_ dance!” she said, delighted.

“I surprise even myself sometimes,” he smiled, even as he accidentally bumped them both gently into a desk. “Oh...sorry!”

“S’alright.” Putting her arms around his waist, Rose squeezed him in a brief hug and then jumped up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.”

“Whatever for?” he asked in bemusement.

“For saying you’ll be my date for the dance!” Rose told him, grinning. “Come on slow coach, you’d better finish your pear before the maids come up with our lunch. What’re you eating for anyway, this close to lunchtime?”

“Is it lunch already?” John wondered with a guilty look at the pear. “Oh dear. I hope I haven’t ruined my appetite.”

And so it was settled. Get the village dance out of the way and then Rose could re-evaluate whether Christmas was going to be a feasible option or not. She still wasn’t altogether sure that she was going to be able to open the watch except by a supreme force of will. Briefly she had entertained the idea of opening it while John was asleep but just as quickly she had banished the thought. As much as she didn’t want to have to say goodbye to John, opening it when he was asleep would just be too cruel, too cowardly.

Neither of which she wanted to be.

Setting that particular dilemma to the back of her head for now, Rose made use of the writing set John had bought her to write a dummy letter to her mother explaining why they couldn’t come for Christmas. Once she’d finished it she asked John to read it over for her and after correcting the few grammatical and spelling errors she’d made he handed it back to her looking sincerely grateful.

“This is wonderful Rose,” he told her earnestly. “Thank you. I wouldn’t know how to even begin to tell your mother that we aren’t coming for Christmas.”

“It’s just my mum. No big deal,” Rose shrugged it off and went to seal the letter in its envelope but John stopped her, blotting the page one more time to make sure the ink wouldn’t smudge before carefully folding it and then placing it into the envelope himself, every movement in that careful and deliberate way that he had.

Rose watched intently as he sealed the envelope, watched the nimble precision of his fingers and found herself unconsciously licking her lips. This incarnation of the Doctor had beautiful hands – musician’s hands one of Jackie’s friends had called them once – and Rose knew first hand just how beautiful they felt in hers, on her, in her...

She was sure her cheeks were flushing and she didn’t dare tear her eyes away from his hand even after he’d placed the envelope down on the desk. John paused, still bent over and then slowly turned his face towards her and met her eyes. Painfully slow, he took his hand from the desk and cupped her cheek gently. Rose took a moment to prepare herself, tilting her face invitingly towards his.

The kiss was a good one, sweet and heady with just a hint of pear to flavour it. Rose pressed into it a little and the taste intensified ever so slightly...

And then there was the sound of a door opening and they parted hastily.

“Oh! Begging your pardon Mr and Mrs Smith!” Jenny said, horrified, from the door.

John leapt back from the desk and then hovered awkwardly, red faced and clearing his throat every few seconds. Rose however remained composed.  
  
“Its fine,” she assured the maid. “Come on in.”

Jenny smiled nervously at them both as she came in and after setting down their lunch tray she began straightening her apron and cap compulsively. “If you, erm, need anything further just let me know won’t you? Ma’am, Sir.”

She bobbed an awkward curtsey before scuttling out of the room. Once she was gone however John and Rose caught each other’s gaze and then they both broke out into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

Lunch was a raucous affair that day, full of laughter and silliness. Rose was still giggling long after John had walked her to the library before the commencement of afternoon classes. It had been a glorious day, a happy day, and it continued to be perfectly lovely all the way up to bedtime.

That night John made love to her with quiet reverence and afterwards Rose snuggled into him happily, settled down and fell easily into the world of dreams with him.

~*~

  
_“Do it.”_

_Rose trembled. It lay there, in the palm of her hand. So incongruous it seemed, the deceptively simple outer shell belying the complex mechanisms at work within._

_“Do it.” Her hand trembled even harder and she worried she might drop it. Dark eyes fixed her piercingly from under a familiar mop of hair. “Do it Rose.”_

_She took a shuddering breath and thumbed the catch. Held the air within her lungs. Abruptly pulled her hand away from it and exhaled with a small sob._

_“I c-can’t!”_

_“Yes you can. You’ve got to.” His hands – cool and smooth, covering hers, urging her on. His eyes pleading. “Please Rose. You’re the only one who can. Please.”_

_“But...it’s like I’m killing part of you,” she protested._

_His eyes were fathomless. “I know.”_

_“Don’t ask me,” and now she was the one pleading, begging. “Don’t make me end it. Please...”_

_He merely watched her, such sadness in his eyes that she was in tears just looking at him._

_“All things,” he told her softly. “Must end.”_

~*~

  
She woke trembling so badly that John too was wrested from his slumber. He must have thought she was crying because he shushed her and then touched her face as if to wipe away tears.

“Rose?” he whispered, stroking her arm gently beneath the covers once he’d ascertained that she was just shaking and not sobbing. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer but instead kissed him fiercely, pushing and shoving at him until he rolled onto his back and she could straddle him. John gasped at the aggressiveness of her touch but responded anyway and all too soon they were moving together in the darkness.

If he was shocked at her forwardness he never said a word. For that matter, neither of them spoke of that particular late night encounter in the morning or indeed, ever again.

In the end, they never really got a chance to.

~*~

  
The spate of colds intensified over the next day or two but soon enough they had run their course and the boys were all back in class, only a few lingering with the sniffles including one Charles Jenkins who’d taken more trips to the infirmary than any other student. Luckily, Rose happened to run into the village postman while she’d been in there running an errand and amongst everything else he had for the school there was a letter from home come for the poor lad. She gave it to him while he waited for his check up and he was a lot more chipper by the time he left.

“I reckon he’s probably more home sick than anything,” Rose noted as she left the infirmary with Joan. The older woman looked at her strangely, a small smile playing on her lips.

“How odd,” she said. “I was thinking much the same.”

Rose was about to respond when John appeared out of nowhere with a large stack of books, his eyes faraway as he made his way down the corridor.

“Good morning Mr Smith!” Joan greeted him cheerfully and he jumped and turned to them, startled by the intrusion into his thoughts. As he turned a book fell from the top of his stack and to the floor and he blinked at the two of them before puzzling down at the offending book as though wondering how it had gotten down there.

“What’s wrong with you this morning? Cat got your tongue? Joan said hello to you.” Rose teased him gently as she tried to bend down to retrieve the book. Unfortunately corsets only allowed so much bending and thus she got stuck halfway down, grunting with the effort to reach.

John, sensing her plight, stretched out a foot and placed it carefully on the book. “Hold on I’ve got it...I’ve...” Rose toppled over suddenly and he paused. “Oh dear. Wait...perhaps if I...”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Joan said good-naturedly as she took the stack of books from his arms and bundled them against her chest. “There. Now help your wife up.”

John gratefully ducked down and picked up the errant book before helping Rose up.

“Thanks,” she said, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she readjusted her corset so the boning sat a little more comfortably. “You’ve got no idea how uncomfortable these things are. And they make it impossible to bend over.”

“I don’t know why you insist on wearing one every day,” Joan admitted to Rose who was reaching out a curious hand for John’s book. After inspecting it briefly she tucked it under her arm, already thinking about where in the shelves she had to return it to. “It’s too much of a bother as far as I’m concerned. Erm, Mr Smith, we appear to be holding your books.”

John blinked owlishly at her. “Oh,” he said in some surprise. “So you are.”

“Were they...going in any particular direction?” Joan prompted gently and John though for a long moment before leaping into action.

“Yes erm...this way. No,” he turned abruptly back the way he’d been headed. “This way.”

He drifted down the stairs vaguely and Rose shared a grin with Joan as they followed him.

“Is he always like that?” Joan asked in an undertone, clearly amused.

“Not all the time,” Rose admitted back quietly. “He just daydreams a lot. Never thinks about what he’s supposed to be...”

John turned to them abruptly and they both jumped guiltily but he only looked at the books they were holding and made a small noise of distress.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think. I should be carrying those, not the two of you.”

“They’re not that heavy,” Rose protested but Joan was quick to mediate.

“How about we all take several each?” she suggested.

“Division of labour?” John guessed.

“Precisely,” Joan smiled approvingly and began divvying them up between the three of them, John insisting on taking a slightly larger stack than the two women. That sorted, the three of them continued on towards the library in companionable silence, John stealing the occasional glance over at Rose and smiling shyly.

“Rose tells me that you’re taking her to the village dance tomorrow night,” Joan ventured, wistfully eyeing the noticeboard as they passed it. “You know it’s been ages since I’ve been to a dance only no one’s asked me of course...”

“Really? Did you want to come? Hey you could come with us!” Rose exclaimed excitedly before turning beseechingly to John. “Don’t you reckon?”

John looked from Rose to Joan, startled at this sudden development. “I er, um...”

“It’s very kind of you to offer,” Joan graciously interrupted John’s stuttering. “But wouldn’t that seem a little...well, odd? An old widow like me being taken to a dance by a married couple?”

“Oh who _cares_ what people think?” Rose said dismissively as she began to lead them down the stairs again. “Anyway, you’re not _that_ old. Old people are all cranky and just whinge all the time. You’ve still got a bit of fire in you yet.”

Joan blushed furiously, flustered. “Only because you’ve been leading me astray!”

To both women’s surprise, it was John who spoke up next. “Yes so I’ve been hearing.”

“Oh dear,” Joan said, looking worried. “What has she been telling you?”

“More than enough for me to realise that she has the same effect on you as she does on me,” John said, a smile in his voice.

Rose glanced back up the stairs at them, frowning. “What’s that?”

Joan looked almost embarrassed when she admitted, “You...well you make me feel younger.”

“Quite! She’s got the most remarkable effect in that way hasn’t she?” John agreed and Rose flushed and then scoffed at them both.

“Rubbish.”

“Oh but we don’t mean it unkindly,” Joan protested, turning briefly to John for support. “I know that I haven’t laughed so much in years until I met you.”

“Nor I,” John added and Joan shot Rose a significant look.

“Oh come on,” Rose laughed it off dismissively. “You two’re gonna give me the biggest ego in the British Isles if you keep carrying on like this.” As she spoke they finally reached the ground floor and made their way into the library where she began to set about re-shelving the books she held.

“But it’s not just the two of us Rose,” Joan pressed as she followed her in. “You can see it in the way you take care of the boys as well. I’ve said it before.”

Rose shook her head in derision and held out a hand for John’s books. He began to hand them to her one at a time as she found their spots on the shelves. “What, cleaning up their cuts and scrapes? Anyone can do that.”

“I don’t mean their cuts and bruises Rose,” Joan said patiently. “It’s their hearts and minds that you nurture. You’re such a wonderful influence on them. You remind them not to take themselves so seriously.”

Rose burnt red at Joan’s praise, especially when John agreed with a loud, “Hear, hear!”

“I just try an’ make them feel better,” Rose mumbled as she shelved another book. “It’s not anything special. Just words.”

“But it _is_ special,” Joan insisted. “You speak to them as though they’re your equal and they respect you for it. It’s quite remarkable. I’ve never seen anyone interact with children the way that you do. Well, with all people for that matter!”

 _If only you knew,_ Rose thought wryly. Quite a few of the ‘people’ she’d met in her travels hadn’t even been _human_. She tried not to focus too much on that though as it made her lose track of where she was up to in her re-shelving.

John however was busily agreeing with Joan saying, “She is rather something isn’t she?” with a proud smile and Rose began blushing all over again. She was completely unused to such extravagant praise – especially for such a simple task as comforting a kid with a scraped knee or making her husband smile. It was ridiculous.

But the praise wasn’t anywhere near over yet. That very night Charlie Jenkins took a feverish turn for the worst and to Rose’s horror she was called upon to nurse him. Under Rocastle’s watchful eye she nervously packed up some bits and pieces from the infirmary and he escorted her to the sickly boys’ dormitory himself.

Casting her mind back to her own childhood sicknesses and what Jackie had done to make her feel better, Rose spent several hours trying to cheer him up while she did her best to break his fever before it rose too high. When Jenkins was finally comfortable enough to sleep she promised to come back in the morning to check up on him and left him to sleep off the worst of it.

“Thank you for your help this evening Mrs Smith,” Rocastle said, surprisingly gracious as he walked her back to her room. “I know it’s quite late for me to be calling upon you but what with Matron Redfern unaccounted for...”

Rose managed a weak smile. “It’s no troubles.”

Rocastle nodded and then straightened himself a little more. Rose steeled herself for a lecture.

“You’ve done very well here,” he told her. “In all of your duties. The library has never been tidier and Matron tells me that you are a quick study and very good with the boys. I can see now that she is all too right to praise your efforts. Well done Mrs Smith.”

“I try sir,” Rose laughed awkwardly. It was the most that Rocastle had ever said to her and certainly the nicest he’d ever been to her. It was a little unsettling to say the least.

“Well,” Rocastle said and then nodded in farewell. “Good night Mrs Smith.”

He went to walk away but Rose stopped him. “It’s just Rose,” she requested, ignoring the surprised look that he gave her. “Mrs Smith makes me sound sort of...old. I’m just Rose.”

Rocastle still looked bewildered by her request as he bade her good night once again and then turned to leave. Rolling her eyes for the millionth time at the ridiculousness of relationships between men and woman at this end of the century Rose opened the door to her room and found John over by the window, shoulders hunched as he fiddled with something mounted on a brass stand.

“John? What you doing?” she asked curiously as she shut the door quietly behind herself.

He turned to her instantly, his face shining, and eagerly beckoned her over to where he stood with a handsome brass telescope. “Oh Rose. The sky is so clear tonight! I’ve been able to see all the stars – come and see!”

Going to the window Rose obediently brought her eye down to the lens and smiled at the tiny pinpricks of light she could see through it. She’d seen better telescopes than this (and had actually gotten a lot more up close and personal with the stars than this) but it was still beautiful. As she peered through the lens she felt John’s hands resting lightly on her waist from behind and she smiled a little as she straightened up and into his arms, only just noticing that his dream journal lay open on the desk nearby. Peering at it she could just make out a star map.

“I fell asleep,” John explained, noticing her gaze. “Whilst I waited for you to come back from the dormitories and I dreamt of the stars. When I woke up the first thing that I noticed was the telescope and I thought...well it seemed to be rather an omen wouldn’t you say?”

Rose looked over her shoulder at him and he smiled brightly. But just as Rose smiled back at him there was a strange flash of bright green light from the sky outside.

“What was that?” she demanded, head snapping around instantly. The light however had already begun to fade. She escaped from his embrace and clamoured around the telescope, nearly knocking it over in her haste to reach the window. Once there she plastered herself up against it, nose bumping annoyingly against the glass.

“Probably just a meteorite,” John explained soothingly, coming up behind her and rubbing her shoulders gently. “Rocks from outer space falling to the ground. Nothing to worry about.”

“Looked close,” Rose said, heart thundering. “And _green._ ”

“Oh it would have been many miles away,” John reassured her as he pressed a little closer against her back. “The green tinge is no doubt due to an atmospheric condition of some kind. Or perhaps there was copper sulphate...amongst...the other minerals...in the...rock...”

Rose smiled a little as John trailed off, mumbling nonsense into her neck as he trailed soft kisses over her skin.

“You tryin’ to seduce me with science talk?” she asked and as she felt him smile wickedly against her neck her thundering pulse suddenly had quite another reason behind it.

“Perhaps,” he admitted coyly and Rose smiled weakly before reaching up to still his movements.

“I’m a bit tired tonight John,” she lied, stroking his head comfortably. “Maybe tomorrow?”

John paused where he was but then placed one final kiss to her neck and pulled back. “Quite right I suppose.” He said, sighing. “I should turn in as well. It’s going to be a big day tomorrow what with classes and then firing practice after that and then the village dance...”

As he spoke he tottered off to retrieve his pyjamas but Rose lingered by the window a little longer, itching to go out and see if she could find out where exactly this meteor might have landed. As far as she knew, meteorites didn’t burn green as they fell and the apparent closeness of it worried her.

What if it was the Family and they’d finally managed to track them down? She’d have to keep a closer eye on the fob watch just in case, and maybe take a trip to the TARDIS tomorrow to make sure that she was all locked up and safe. Maybe too she could go into the village and ask at the local farms to see if anyone else had seen where the meteorite had fallen?

“Rose?” John called from where he stood by the bed. “Are you coming to bed?”

Glancing uneasily at the mantel, Rose had a sudden and absurd compulsion to take the watch and sleep with it underneath her pillow so it would be safe.

“Rose?” John said again and reluctantly she left the time piece where it was and readied herself for bed. Once they were both under the covers she cuddled into John instinctively but although he fell asleep quite quickly she was to find no rest. She dozed on and off all night but not deep enough to dream and she snuck out of bed dozen times to check on the watch, paranoid that it might disappear while she was sleeping.

Come morning she was all but exhausted but John was well rested and he smiled when he woke to find her still nestled in his arms.

“Why good morning Mrs Smith,” he murmured sleepily to her and Rose grinned wearily as he kissed her nose by Braille.

“Morning Mr Smith,” she returned, easily playing along with the familiar game.

“Big day today,” John yawned and then smacked his lips as he snuggled into her a little more.

“Yep,” Rose agreed, tightly gripping the front of his pyjamas with one hand and his waist with the other. “Big day coming right up.”

“Excellent,” John mumbled softly and then he was snoring softly again.

Endearing as John’s sleeping habits were however, Rose was no more going to be able to go back to sleep now than fly to the moon. At least figuratively speaking. Of course when the Doctor was back she really _would_ be able to go to the moon if she wanted...but that was beside the point. She lay stiff and tense in the bed with him until the maids came knocking with their breakfast tray.

Rose had never been much of one for believing in premonitions or prophecies but she did believe in her own intuition and she was beyond certain that the mysterious green meteorite the night before had something to do with the Family. Or at least some sort of alien, which meant that their cover might soon be blown.

As she watched John yawn and stretch within the grip she still had on him from before she felt a blind panic beginning to swell within her at the possibility that she might have to let him go sooner than she had anticipated. A whimper built in her chest and she choked it back, terrified that she might burst into tears for grief of a man who wasn’t even dead yet.

She wasn’t ready yet.

“John?” she choked out as he went to sit up and he paused and rolled to face her, squinting through sleep heavy lids. “Can I just say I...I...”

“Mmmn?” he pressed and her tongue filled her mouth, heavy and impossibly thick.

She kissed him instead of speaking, plunged her fingers into his hair and pressed into the warm, long length of his body until it became unbearable.

When she pulled back abruptly for air they both gasped softly.

“Are you alright?” John said once he’d caught his breath enough.

Rose leant her forehead against his. “Yeah.” She told him. “I am. I will be.”

 _I hope,_ she added silently.

His hand was on her face then, exploring the swell of her cheek and he sighed into her mouth.

“I wish sometimes that I could look inside your mind and see how you think.”

She mirrored him, their arms tangling as she touched his cheek too, felt the scratch of stubble and his ribs pushing against the back of her arm as his chest rose and fell.

“Yeah,” she agreed in a whisper. “Me too.”

John kissed her again, tenderly, as if it might be able to help.

She kissed him tentatively back and then began to inch her leg over his hip.

Outside, the maid grew tired of waiting and left their breakfast at the door for them to find.

And so began John Smith's last day on earth.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! In my defense, this chapter really was a bitch to write and I’ve had a lot of real life dramas lately – like, a LOT. To make up for it, this chapter is super extra long (like seriously, a whole scene) and I promise, promise, PROMISE it will be posted regularly from now until the end of it. Promise. You can all attack me with pitchforks if I don’t.

John had long since left for his first class of the morning but Rose lingered in their room, pacing and gripping onto the fob watch with both hands as she desperately considered her next move. If she left the watch in here the Family might find it. If she took it with her the Family might find _her_ and by turns the watch. If she took it to the TARDIS for safe keeping the Family might find her there and then steal the TARDIS _and_ the watch.

This whole train of thought hinged of course on _if_ the Family had actually landed the night before. It wasn’t completely impossible that it _wasn’t_ them (the TARDIS attracted aliens like a moth to a lamp) but it was such a huge coincidence that Rose wasn’t willing to rule the possibility out.

She also wasn’t about to put her money down on it being the Family either though.

She had just about gnawed halfway through her bottom lip when there was a knock at the door and she hastily replaced the watch on the mantel. It had been safe in here for all these weeks she reasoned, and unless the Family knew what they were looking for it would continue to stay safe until they ran out of time and she could open the watch herself.

Possibly after Christmas.

Smoothing her skirts down, Rose answered the door to Jenny who was there to retrieve their breakfast tray and tidy up.

“How are you this morning Mrs Smith?” Jenny asked as she set about her duties.

“Worried.” Rose admitted frankly, glancing towards the mantel with her arms tightly folded.

“About what ma’am?”

Rose wryly thought of all the possibilities.

_Having to kill my husband? The potential alien invasion that could be about to break out? What the Doctor’s gonna say when he wakes up?_

“Did you see the meteorite last night?” she blurted instead.

“Meteorite?” The rustling of sheets paused.

“Yeah,” Rose affirmed. “Like a shooting star? It made the sky go all green.”

“’fraid I must’ve been asleep ma’am.” Jenny said as she resumed her bed making, pausing occasionally to sniff. “I wasn’t feeling all that well yesterday so I went to bed early.”

“Oh.” Rose turned to her with great concern. “You’re not getting what the boys had are you?”

Jenny gave a stilted laugh. “Oh I shouldn’t think so Mrs Smith.”

“Well let me know if you do start to feel peaky yeah?” Rose smiled. “I’ll make sure you get some cough medicine from Matron.”

“I’ll be alright Mrs Smith.” Jenny said with respect. “I’ve just got a bit of the sniffles is all.”

“Yeah but you don’t want them to get worse do you?” Rose chastised gently even as she headed for the chest of drawers and began hunting. “You should get as much rest as you can and rug up nice and warm when you go out just in case. Here,” she added, crossing the room to Jenny and holding out one of the beautiful lace handkerchiefs the TARDIS had packed for her. “For your nose.”

“Mrs Smith!” Jenny protested instantly, a startled flush spreading across her cheeks. “I couldn’t!”

“No go on.” Rose pressed the delicate fabric into her hand. “I’m not gonna be using it any time soon and you need it more than me. Please?”

Jenny stared down at the handkerchief in her hand, torn, and Rose sighed good-naturedly.

“Would you take it if I ordered you to use it so you’d stop sniffing and annoying me?” she said, only half joking but Jenny looked so stricken that she hastened to reassure her. “I’m only kidding Jenny. You’re not really annoying me. I just think you should have it.”

“My... _thank_ you Mrs Smith!” Jenny said reverently, clutching the handkerchief to herself.

“S’just a hanky.” Rose shrugged it off and waved as she headed for the door, glancing back once more at the mantel to assure herself that the watch was still there. “See you later then.”

“Have a good day Mrs Smith!” Jenny returned as Rose closed the door behind her, straightened herself out and then set out determinedly to find somebody, _anybody_ who might have seen the meteorite come down the night before.

Of course almost everyone was in class so she ducked off to the dormitories quickly to check up on Jenkins. His fever was still high but he assured her that he was feeling a little better and so she left him with a bedside table of books, a glass of water and a promise that either she or Matron Redfern would be by later to check on him.

Content that he was comfortable for now at least, Rose retreated to the library, as was her habit, to fill in time before the mid morning class changeover. The room was in rather a shambles but Rose was so adept at re-shelving the books by now that she finished up quite quickly and was free to question the teachers as they drifted through the corridors to their second classes of the morning.

Unfortunately few of them had seen the meteorite come down and Ratcliff, the science professor, was more interested in telling her all about the possible atmospheric and chemical conditions that could have led to the intriguing colour of it than where he thought it might’ve gone down.

After finally escaping from him, Rose headed to the infirmary to seek out Joan. The already bleak room was unusually dark when she opened the door, the drapes still shut against the weak morning sun and Rose wondered if the Matron had come back to the school at all the night before.

The first beginnings of worry making her stomach coil in anticipation, Rose hesitated on the threshold.

“Hello?” she called, her voice over-loud in the quiet of the room. “Joan?”

There was a sudden flurry of movement from the corner and Rose gasped and jumped before realising who and what it was. “Joan!” she said, pressing a hand to her thundering heart. “You scared the h- you scared me!”

The woman in question had appeared silently from the shadows, immaculate in her customary grey dress and pinafore.

“I’m so sorry,” Joan apologised smoothly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Well good job on it anyway. Did you hear about Jenkins?” Rose asked as she began to open the curtains to let the light in. “That’s better, bit of light in here...anyway I had to go look after him a bit last night, his temperature went right up. I just went and saw him again and it’s about the same but he reckons he feels a bit better so we’ll have to keep an eye on him. Hey, where were you anyways last night?”

“I was in the village quite late.” Joan explained. “One of the townspeople was feeling poorly and the local doctor is up in London attending a funeral. I was called upon to help in his absence.”

“Oh right.” Rose said slipping out of her coat and folding it neatly over the back of a chair. “Whose funeral?”

“I’m not certain,” Joan said, then bluntly added, “I’m sorry but have you come here for something in particular?”

Rose froze in the act of sitting down.

“No bandages need rollin’ today then?” she guessed hopefully.

“No,” Joan said and Rose was surprised at the shortness with which she spoke. “And I’m afraid I haven’t time for idle chatter either. I’ve got an awful lot of work to do.”

Rose blinked, surprised by the snub but still couldn’t help but offer her help. “Anything I can help with?”

Joan pressed her lips together.

“If you must. There are empty medicine bottles that need to be washed clean. Over there. Mind you don’t break any of them.”

Her voice was stiff and Rose almost declined altogether in protest before deciding that it wasn’t her fault that the Matron had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed today. Probably she was just tired from the night before – Rose knew that she was. Fetching a basin of water, she began cleaning out the bottles while Joan pored over a slew of paperwork.

“So if you were out late you must’ve seen that meteorite last night then...” Rose ventured casually as she set one of the bottles out to dry.

Joan looked up instantly, her face inscrutable. “Meteorite?”

Rose looked up from her work too, hands stilling on the bottle she was cleaning. “The shooting star? It came down last night, pretty late, near the village. You must’ve seen it.”

Joan returned abruptly to her paperwork. “I didn’t see anything up in the sky last night.”

“Oh. Did you hear anything about it though?” Rose pressed. “Someone in the village must’ve seen it. The whole sky lit up green an’...”

“I haven’t seen anything and I haven’t heard anything,” Joan said curtly. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Oh. Right.” Rose said awkwardly, then quickly apologised. “I’m not tryin’ to be nosy or anything. I just thought maybe you’d seen where it went down is all.”

“Yes,” Joan said. “Well.”

She gave a small, irritable harrumph and then returned to her paperwork. Rose took the hint and returned to her bottle cleaning, but with a growing sense of unease. Joan had never acted like this around her before, not even back in the first weeks she’d been here. Sure she was probably tired but maybe she was on her monthly as well? Or maybe...

The beginnings of a horrible suspicion had just begun to form in Rose’s mind when Joan spoke up suddenly.

“Explain something to me?” Rose looked up, startled by the almost conversational tone that the other woman’s voice had taken. “You once told me that you don’t come from money and – if you’ll excuse me – your manner certainly suggests much the same. In addition, your husband’s occupation is hardly going to bring in much in the way of capital and yet you dress with all the elegance of a woman in the very upper echelons of society. Why is that?”

“Um-” Rose was completely thrown by the question but Joan continued on almost immediately, with barely a pause.

“And your husband, John. I spoke with him just this morning and it’s odd, but he doesn’t seem to have any... _substance_ to him.”

Rose frowned at that. “What d’you mean?”

“He was telling me about Nottingham,” Joan said, absently ticking something off on her paperwork as she spoke. “Where he grew up. But beyond names and places he didn’t seem to have anything to say. Every time I tried to dig a little deeper he became lost for words.” She paused and shot Rose a meaningful glance.

“He’s just...shy.” Rose lied. “He doesn’t like talking about his past much. Plus he doesn’t know you very well. I mean, not really.”

Joan looked unconvinced. “Hmmn.” She said and continued with her paperwork in silence.

Once the bottles were washed Rose made her excuses and left, brain buzzing with possibilities. First Jenkins fever had gone up, now Jenny seemed to be getting ill and Joan was acting strangely as well. Could they all be connected to the landing from the night before? Maybe there were alien particles in the air from the fuel or energy source or whatever the Family’s ship used? Or if they were using a vortex manipulator then maybe there was some sort of time-space displacement affecting people?

Suddenly Rose wished the Doctor was there – if nothing else then for the opportunity to have someone to bounce her theories off. She hated not knowing what to do. The last time she’d been stuck in a situation like this the Doctor had appeared at just the right moment to fix everything but this time she was the one in charge of providing his cue and she couldn’t even give it to him just in case she made everything worse!

She needed to get out of the school she decided, breathe some fresh air and distract herself from everything. And who better to distract her from her worries than John? He was the next best thing to the Doctor after all, and he had a knack for making her feel safe and happy without even realising he was doing anything special at all. Already looking forward to seeing him, she quickened her pace and arrived at their room just as one of the students was leaving.

“Hello Tim.” she greeted him automatically and the boy stopped and nodded to her quickly.

“Good day Mrs Smith.” He returned cordially and then beat a hasty retreat.

“What’d you do to him?” Rose chastised John lightly as he greeted her with a soft kiss. Trying not to look too pleased by his affections she turned to teasing instead. “Knock him on the head with the book?”

“He did seem a little distracted didn’t he?” John agreed, looking after the boys retreating back a moment longer before turning his attention back to his wife. “It’s a tremendous shame really. I just gave him some very good advice about his education.”

“Did you?” Rose said, tongue slipping between her teeth before she could stop it. John’s mouth twitched excitedly and she had to force herself to stop flirting with him before she got too carried away. Flirting with John was not going to help get rid of the worried knots that her intestines were busily tying themselves into. Forcing a smile she abruptly asked, “Can we take a walk?”

John blinked. “Right _now_?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s a pretty nice day. Maybe we can have a picnic out...” she knew as soon as she’d suggested it that something was wrong – John’s entire face creased into an expression of unhappiness. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I just I-” his face creased further still as he stammered his apologies. “I’m so sorry Rose but I-I have some rather urgent papers that I need to grade. Over lunch.”

Rose felt briefly like she’d been sucker punched in the gut. Or possibly had someone throw a bag of cement mix at her mid section.

“Right.” she managed. Then, “Can’t you do them later?”

John winced apologetically and even though that was probably answer enough he still continued on with an explanation.

“I was supposed to have marked and returned them last week,” he admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “But I lost them amongst all of the other papers on my desk and of course I forgot about them, so it’s my own blessed fault...but if I don’t get them done today then I never shall. So.”

He stood there nervously and Rose nodded, trying not to show her disappointment. He seemed to sense it anyway and reached out for her suddenly. She allowed herself to be reeled in and settled into his embrace, feeling both ridiculously stupid over being so upset by so trivial a thing, but at the same time glad for his comfort. In her life with the Doctor she had grown so used to him being able to take her wherever she wanted at the drop of a hat that to be told no, something else needed to be done, something that was more important than she was...

It was a jarring experience, to say the least.

“Perhaps this afternoon we could go for a walk. After firing practice?” John suggested, kissing her forehead in apology. “I really am sorry that I can’t go out now, but...”

“S’alright.” Rose conceded and leant against him a little more, savouring the feel of him as he rocked her gently from side to side. “Maybe I’ll just go out by myself for a while and we can go for a walk later.”

“Mmmn.” John hummed his agreement, absently toying with a seam in her dress. “Perhaps to the village Post Office so that we can send off that letter?”

Rose frowned. “Letter?” she wondered, pulling back to look up at him questioningly.

John’s eyebrows shot up.

“To your mother?” he clarified and Rose paused for a long moment before exclaiming out loud.

“Oh!” she said loudly. “Yeah! Yeah of course, I haven’t posted it yet have I? Silly of me to forget...don’t need mum getting all excited about Christmas when...well you know what...um...”

She had lost all coherence by now and she knew it so instead of continuing on she trailed off and smiled up at him winningly in the hope that he would get distracted. It worked magnificently – John said nothing about her babbling. Instead he pressed the pad of his thumb to her forehead and smoothed it along her hairline gently. Rose closed her eyes, simply enjoying his touch.

“I really am sorry,” he murmured eventually and Rose opened her eyes to see a rueful smile unfold his lips into a crooked line. “To be honest I could have done with the fresh air and a chance to stretch my legs.”

“Maybe I’ll walk a few extra miles for you.” Rose offered unthinkingly and when John smiled his thanks, his whole countenance lit up.

“I’d like that. Very much.”

Replacing the pad of his thumb with the backs of his fingers, John used them to twirl an unruly strand of blonde back from her face. He kept on twisting, around and around, until it began to twist back on itself and when he let go it unravelled gently against her cheek, a perfect ringlet.

Rose squirmed gently in his arms, giggling at the sensation of it tickling her cheek and John eyed her with something that could only be called wonder.

“Do you know how very lucky I am?” he marvelled, eyes flickering from the curl of hair he’d just twisted around his fingertips to her eyes.

Rose shook her head, all aflutter.

“Dunno,” she gave a slow smile. “How lucky are you?”

“Very, I should think.” He dipped his head for a farewell kiss and then murmured against her lips, “To have you.”

Several short minutes later Rose left their room so light she felt like she was walking on air.

~*~

  
Rose’s sense of peace didn’t last for very long. She headed into the village to do some investigating but talking to most of the residents turned out to be a dead end. Nobody had seen much except for the barman at the village pub and he was disinclined to allow women into his facility at the best of times. To have an _inquisitive_ woman who was asking _questions_ was even more unwelcome.

“Listen,” he finally said after she’d been chasing him around the premises for the past ten minutes refusing to go until he told her what he knew. “Near as I can tell from what Jimmy Hart said – he’s the fellow runs the Post Office – it must’ve gone down in one of the fields if it came down anywhere at all. S’all I know. Now go on an’ scoot lass.”

“Had Mr Hart been drinking on the night in question?” Rose asked, feeling like she really ought to have brought a pen and a pad of paper with her. And possibly a police badge. She almost grinned at the thought of what the Doctor would say if he could see her right now, deducting and all. She’d certainly picked up a few tricks from him about interrogating people in their time together.

“Well he was in a pub wasn’t he?” the barman answered, furiously polishing up a glass and then glaring at a particularly stubborn bit of grime before polishing it some more. “Course he was drinking.”

“Right. Well thanks for that, you’ve been really helpful...” Rose said and was just leaving the premises somewhat hastily when he called her back again.

“Ey – try Cooper’s Field.” he advised. “S’closest field to the village, can’t miss it. That’s where Jimmy and your Matron were headin’ last night to go look for this meteorite of yours.”

Rose froze mid-step, sure she had misheard him.

“Matron Redfern?” she demanded. “From up at the school? She saw it come down?”

The barman nodded, still attacking the glass with his cloth. “Yeah. Came flapping in here last night, silly chook, goin’ on about lights in the sky. Convinced Jimmy to go take a look in Cooper’s Field an’ off they swanned. Never came back neither. Reckon they didn’t find nothin’ in the end or they’d’ve come back and skited.”

Rose felt her stomach turn. “Yeah maybe.”

She left the pub with her stomach still churning worriedly and had barely set out towards Cooper’s Field when she had to dodge a squall of rain. As she took shelter beneath the boughs of a particularly useless tree by the side of the road, Rose went back over what she’d learned from the barman, namely that Joan had lied to her about seeing the meteorite, had in fact gone _looking_ for it.

But why would she lie? It made no sense. Unless she was in league with the Family, which Rose honestly couldn’t see happening unless she’d seriously misjudged the other woman. Maybe she’d been hypnotised, or possessed like Cassandra had done to her on New Earth? It would explain why she had been acting so strangely and asking weird questions.

Making a mental note to keep an eye on Joan and ask Mr Hart some questions when she went into the Post Office that afternoon, Rose frowned and retreated further under the tree in a fruitless attempt to stay out of the rain. After a while she just gave in – the rain wasn’t letting up and she was probably going to get just as wet walking in it as she was standing under this stupid tree.

After squelching her way to Cooper’s field she stood on the edge, scanning it carefully. She had good eyes but she was completely soaked and the discomfort of being in damp clothes was distracting her. The rain didn’t help much with her vision either, it was heavy enough that the field was little more than a greenish blur, especially where...

Rose blinked, shook her hair out of her eyes and then looked again, harder this time.

There was _something_ in the field, something invisible but for where the rain was hitting it and there it glowed green, just for the briefest of instances. The effect made the fall of rain look strange, almost warped. Anyone else would have put it down to a trick of the light or their eyes fooling them but after a moment Rose could just make out the hull of the spaceship hunkered down on the grass, cloaked and hidden.

Swallowing heavily as the first rush of adrenalin began to flood her system, Rose felt her muscles tense and her heart rate increase. She’d suspected of course that there had been a spaceship land the night before but there was a big difference between suspecting it and actually _seeing_ it with her own eyes.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself, exhaling shakily. “You know they’re here now just...go back to the school and pretend you never saw it. If they know you’ve been watching them then they’ll find you and everything’s over. _Everything_.”

She hesitated a moment, eyes glued to the spot where she knew the spaceship sat and then, unbidden, her feet began to carry her towards it. _Jeopardy friendly_ the Doctor’s voice echoed grimly in her head and then her mother’s; _It’s like you go looking for trouble!_

But she had to _know_. What if it really was just her eyes playing tricks on her? She had to make sure that she was right.

Determinedly, Rose made her way through the thinning forest, the slope quickly evening out until the ground became flat. The rain slowed to a complete stop as she made her way gingerly towards the invisible spaceship and she slowed a little, relatively confident that she knew where it was but not willing to count her chickens just yet.

Heart thundering away like a timpani, she reached out a hand to make sure she didn’t run headlong into it like an idiot but when her fingertips unexpectedly bumped into cold metal a few seconds later the whole ship glowed green and she jumped, snatching her hand back in surprise.

She hadn’t realised just how close she was to it, nor that her touch would reveal the whole ship like that. Taking in a deep breath and hoping desperately that the Family didn’t have external cameras (or better yet, that they weren’t even in there), Rose put her whole hand awkwardly against the curved metal side.

It was cold and wet, and as she touched it the entire outline of the ship was visible once again – or at least the shape of it anyway – glowing bright green. When she pulled her hand away it disappeared once more, droplets of water still sliding disconcertingly over what appeared to be thin air.

It was quite big. Bigger than she had expected, but then she was used to the TARDIS and its deceptively small exterior. Looking at the Family’s ship from end to end she tried to estimate just how long it was but then came the familiar click-whoosh of an airlock being opened and her body flooded with terror.

Turning tail, Rose bolted and then almost crashed into the tail end of the ship as she careered around the end of it at top speed. As she trotted ungainly across the field she glanced back worriedly. She was aiming to get into the trees on the other side of the field before she could be spotted but if they’d seen her on their cameras they’d surely follow her.

Fortunately she’d barely gone twenty yards across the field when she put her foot forward expecting solid ground and instead found thin air. Too shocked to even scream, Rose experienced a brief moment of weightlessness before she fell, automatically collapsing in on herself to protect her bad ankle.

She still hit hard but the ground had been softened from the rain and when she recovered her wits she discovered that she was actually half-lying in a puddle that had filled up in a shallow depression, carved into the field by the elements and hidden by the grass. That had been what she had fallen into. Shaken but unhurt, she waited until she had her breath back a little and her heart had stopped trying to beat its way out of her chest before rolling over and peeping over the edge of the shallow lip.

Somebody had left the ship, probably a man, but they were so far away and their clothes were so nondescript it could have been almost anyone. Rose looked as hard as she could but he had his back to her and with the long coat and hat they were wearing it could have been any man from the village.

She waited until he was well and truly gone before clambering out of her puddle and heading off in the opposite direction to her mystery man. What she needed now was a wash, a clean set of clothes and maybe a quick cuppa before she went out with John. She couldn’t very well interrogate Mr Hart looking like this, nor could she let John see her so dishevelled. He’d doubtless want to know how she’d gotten in such a state and she couldn’t very well tell him that it was because she’d been running away from aliens.

Drawing herself up as tall as she could, Rose forced her weary feet to press on and take her home.

~*~

  
By the time she got back to the school and had gotten herself cleaned up and dressed, Rose had somehow managed to convince herself that she was running late to meet up with John. She all but charged downstairs and out the back of the school where the boys were set up with their guns and targets. Her lip curled automatically at the sight but she was soon smiling when she saw John.

Taking care not to creep up behind him and startle him, Rose came right down onto the grass to watch the proceedings. She’d never properly watched the boys shooting at such close range before and they were frighteningly efficient. A credit to their teacher she thought uneasily even as she put a smile on her face and touched John’s arm.

He jumped and turned, obviously not having realised she was there. “Oh!” he said, startled. “You’re awfully early.”

“I thought I was running late actually.” Rose admitted with a wan smile. “Any chance I can steal you away?”

John glanced uneasily over her shoulder and Rose looked too only to find that Rocastle had just arrived and was prowling along observing. Turning back to John she nodded in curt understanding.

“Right. I’ll just watch until you’re done then yeah?”

She retreated a short way to do just that but the arrival of the headmaster had provided an easy distraction for the boys as he called a cease fire and one of them, Hutchinson, quickly seized the chance to complain about his firing partner. From where she stood Rose couldn’t make out the words but she could clearly see the unanimous disapproval for Lattimer (who was seemingly the cause of all the trouble) in the body language of the boys around him and in the Headmaster to boot.

“An’ I thought _I_ was havin’ a rough day.” Rose muttered to herself, hugging her arms to herself in an effort to keep warm. “Poor kid.”

The boys took up their positions again quickly but it wasn’t long before they were stopping again, this time Hutchinson openly berating Lattimer, and loud enough that it carried all the way over to where Rose stood.

“This stupid boy is useless!” she heard him rage before adding hopefully, “Permission to give Latimer a beating, Sir?”

Rose took an unconscious step forward, one hand curling into a fist before she managed to stop herself. The movement however was enough to catch John’s eye and he glanced at her quickly before turning his attention back to the class. Rose waited on tenterhooks, knowing she couldn’t interfere or John would be a laughing stock.

She just prayed that he would do the right thing.

“It’s your class, Mr Smith.” the Headmaster allowed and John paused for a long moment, considering.

“Pemberton,” he finally called and his voice was strong, commanding. “Smythe, Wicks. Take post. Baines, Hutchinson – take a moment. Lattimer, go and clear your head.”

“But sir-!” Hutchinson protested.

“Hutchinson,” John said sternly and the boy’s face fell into a deep scowl as he sloped off to the side, muttering out loud to himself.

“He could _do_ with a proper beating...just because your wife is watching...”

“I beg your pardon Hutchinson?” John called out sharply and the boy froze, caught out. “I shan’t have you speak like that in the presence of my wife. Apologise to her this instant.”

Rose was all but full to bursting with pride for John as Hutchinson shot her an insolent look but mumbled his apology all the same. His friend, Baines, just sniffed with disdain, shot John a look and then trounced off. John for his part stood a little red-faced but defiant.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, John still had one more surprise in store for her – and for himself too it seemed. The Headmaster stayed until the very end of firing practice but once the boys had packed away the guns and targets and been dismissed he was quick to step forward.

“I hope Mr Smith that your judgement this afternoon was not impaired by the presence of your lovely wife.” He said, glancing at Rose with a tight smile. “Your response to the situation was a little – if you’ll excuse me – unorthodox.”

Rose said nothing but had to grit her teeth to keep from mouthing off. John seemed to sense how edgy she was because he put a hand to her elbow briefly to still her before speaking.

“Well Headmaster, I don’t believe that these boys should be encouraged to fight anymore than they already are.” He then added a somewhat meek, “Sir.”

Rocastle looked slightly stunned. “You are aware Mr Smith that this school works to highlight the importance of discipline through the diligent study of British military codes?”

“Well of course yes,” John conceded. “But diplomacy also has its part in warfare. Is it not better for diplomats to be bored than for young men to die?”

There was a long silence wherein Rocastle considered John, his face inscrutable. Rose watched her husband swallow nervously but he continued to stand, defiant and unwavering.

“Wise words Mr. Smith.” Rocastle finally admitted although he didn’t look entirely pleased. “Perhaps there is some method to your decision. I apologise for doubting you. Good day to you both.” And he nodded to each of them in turn. “Mr. Smith. Mrs. Smith.”

After he had gone, John turned to Rose with look of complete terror on his face and she grinned, caught his face between her hands and planted a kiss right on the end of his freckled nose.

“That was _brilliant!_ ” she squealed. “Well done you!”

“Goodness,” John said weakly. His hand fluttered at the tassel on his hat which sat askew over one eye. Rose reached up on tiptoe to fix it for him. “I thought for a moment that perhaps I had overstepped my boundaries, that the Headmaster would...”

“You didn’t overstep any boundaries.” Rose assured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You just set your own s’all.”

Smiling weakly, John covered her hand with his own then and gave it a grateful squeeze.

“Thank you,” he told her earnestly and Rose gave an uncertain laugh.

“What for?”

“You know what for.” John smiled a little wider and then dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’ll just retrieve my hat and coat from upstairs shall I? No need to come with me, I’ll only be a moment. Shall I meet you at the front of the school?”

“Sure.”

As he wandered back into the school Rose lingered to watch him and once he’d disappeared inside she cast her eyes over the old stone building. It really was like living inside a castle, she thought with some amusement. Briefly she wondered what it would look like in her time and resolved to come back someday with the Doctor to...

Uneasily turning her mind away from that thought for now, Rose glanced once more at the building and stopped short at the sight of someone moving hurriedly away from one of the windows. Stepping forward automatically, Rose squinted, trying to make out who it might have been but they had been too quick. Disappointed, she glanced back several times at the window as she headed off for the path that ran along the side of the school and led into the stables.

She didn’t see the figure reappear at the window to watch her as she rounded the corner.

~*~

  
Bundled up in hat, coat and scarf John was quietly content all the way into the village and continued to be so as Rose interrogated Mr. Hart at the Post office. Unfortunately the man was as unhelpful as she had feared he would be. Mr. Hart had always been a bit grumpy anyway, but when she casually dropped the meteorite into conversation as he rummaged around for stamps he flat out denied that he’d gone looking for it with Matron Redfern and actually suggested that the barman must have been mistaken – he hadn’t been down at the pub since Friday.

Rose gave up on asking too many more questions after that but resolved to keep a close watch on Cooper’s Field whenever she passed it, just in case she could catch out Mr. Hart going to the spaceship.

“You seem very interested in this meteorite,” John commented as they left the Post Office, the bell over the door jangling cheerfully.

“Yeah well you’ve only got yourself to blame for that.” Rose muttered to herself.

“Me?” John wondered and Rose silently berated herself. She really had to stop being so careless with her words around him.

“Yeah,” she began awkwardly. “Because you...I mean you’re always...you’re...um...” John was watching her expectantly and she began to panic and look around for something that she could possibly distract him with. Unfortunately there was nothing and so she looked back up at his curious face in desperation and in that split second she saw not John but...

“Doctor?” she blurted and John blinked in confusion.

“The Doctor?” he puzzled. “The traveller from my dreams? What does he have to do with this?”

“Well...everything really!” Rose seized desperately on the idea, knowing it was her only hope of salvaging her slip up. “I mean, he travels the stars right? S’just interesting s’all.”

“You’ve got your head up in the stars.” John guessed and then gave her a knowing smile, all too easily accepting her explanation. Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

“Absolutely, yeah. All the time!” she laughed out her nerves and then cleared her throat, ready to change the subject. “Speakin’ of which – you had anymore dreams lately?”

“None that I haven’t already relayed to you I’m afraid,” John admitted. “Although I have been thinking that perhaps the next time we’re in London I could submit a manuscript of it into one of the publishing houses. I can’t teach forever after all, and if the book was a success then we would be quite well off...”

He was looking at her hopefully but Rose felt oddly dismayed by the idea. “Maybe...” she said uneasily then wondered, “D’you reckon people’d buy it though?”

John raised his eyebrows at her. “A dashing hero who travels about the stars having fantastic adventures and saving people’s lives? Who _wouldn’t_ want to read about something so thrilling?”

Privately considering the ‘thrilling’ nature of the village around them, Rose declined to comment and instead made a non committal noise.

“And of course,” John continued, a slight flush beginning to creep up his ears. “There would be a lot of women wanting to read it...”

It was Rose’s turn now to laugh. “Oh yeah? How d’you figure that?”

“Well,” John said, stammering a little. “What woman doesn’t dream of a handsome, mysterious man who can take them anywhere they please, rights wrongs and always saves the day?”

“A knight in shining armour?” Rose guessed and John nodded eagerly.

“Yes, yes. Exactly. Quite.”

“Is that how you see him? Like some great big fairytale hero?”

The idea intrigued her. She’d always known the Doctor to be clever and brave, but she’d never really thought of him as a _hero_ per se. To her he’d always just been her Doctor, at heart a man who was just as fallible and as flawed as everyone else.

John didn’t seem to hold the same opinion it seemed. “Well,” he said, flushing even deeper. “He’s certainly much braver than I am!”

The look he gave her then was so reminiscent of the Doctor’s wounded-puppy-dog expression that Rose couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe,” she said before turning so that she was walking backwards and could see John’s face properly. “He might fight monsters every day but I’ll bet you anything he’s never had the stones to tell someone...”

She stopped dead. Throughout their conversation they’d ended up outside the front of the General Store where there was a piano being winched up to the second floor by two men. This in itself was completely fine – the fact that the rope holding it was beginning to fray alarmingly was not.

Rose gaped in horror, especially when she noticed that the woman with the perambulator who they always said hello to was heading straight towards it, too preoccupied with slogging up the hill to realise she was about to have a piano dropped on her head.

“Oh you are _kidding_ me!” Rose cried and John swung around. Within a split second he had taken in the disaster about to happen, glanced around and then charged off in the opposite direction. Rose barely spared him a glance before turning back to call out a warning. “Look out!” she hollered and the woman and the men looked over in confusion.

A second later there was a blur of movement in Rose’s peripheral vision and she turned just in time to see John perform a perfect overhand throw.

“What the...?”

What happened next was so fast that Rose could barely even make sense of it. John’s projectile streaked towards the Ironmongers next door, upsetting some spare scaffolding poles that rested against the wall. They fell with a collection of dull, metallic _thunks_ and something else went flying through the air. The next thing she knew a cartload of empty milk churns were clattering into the path of the woman with the perambulator _just_ as the rope supporting the piano finally snapped and sent it crashing to the ground.

Chaos erupted. The workmen flying over to comfort the woman as she and her baby screamed blue murder, passers-by began gathering in small huddles to see what all the commotion was about and Rose and John stood in the middle of it all and watched silently, mouths agape.

“What was _that_?” she finally managed, rounding on him.

“I-cricket ball?” John said in a very small voice, vaguely indicating the little boy who was brushing past them to retrieve his toy.

“No, I mean how did you manage to hit those poles and make the...what was it? The thing that hit the milk churns?”

“I-a brick?” John guessed.

“Was it? Anyway then that went...” Rose waved a hand to try and indicate the enormity of what had just happened. “An’ they fell off an’...John, you just saved that woman’s life!”

John gaped for a moment longer, just as shocked as she was and then a huge grin exploded across his face.

“I did, didn’t I?” he said giddily and then, abruptly, he giggled.

The pang of loss that hit Rose then, with that giggle, was brutal enough to wind her. She missed her Doctor, missed him so very desperately in that moment that it hurt. John was wonderful, so wonderful – but no human had reflexes fast enough to do what he had just done, to calculate it all so precisely and then aim the cricket ball at just the right place to set off such a spectacular chain reaction...

If she hadn’t seen the rope snapping though – or if John hadn’t turned quickly enough...

The thought made her nauseous but she tried to smile for John’s sake, especially when the two of them were swept up, for a time, in the spectacle of it all. The villagers had come flocking to see what the ruckus was about and when it was revealed that she and her husband had been the ones to avert a horrible disaster they were enveloped by a rather large crowd all begging to hear what had happened.

Rose was glad to leave the storytelling to John and was fidgeting restlessly when she noticed Mr. Hart lurking about. He was not listening to John, instead he was surveying the wreckage of the piano closely, sniffing violently and looking around as though he was searching for something – or someone? Frowning, Rose was still watching him when he stiffened, turned and saw her.

Instantly she turned away but the damage was done. She could feel his eyes boring into her and when she chanced another sneaky look over at him he was still staring, head tilted as though in thoughtful contemplation, eyes glazed.

“Can we go?” she whispered urgently to John who was answering questions now from the onlookers. Her eyes moved back to Mr. Hart as she spoke and he stared back unblinkingly, a small smile on his lips. Her skin crawled.

“In a moment dear,” John said absently. “I just want to make sure that Mrs. Brownlow and her baby are-”

“Please?” Rose begged and something in her voice must have given him pause because he was remarkably quick to make his excuses to the crowd of admirers and onlookers and soon enough they were departing together for the school. Rose was glad. In all that time she had studiously avoided looking at Mr. Hart but she could feel _him_ staring nonetheless, eyes boring into her.

Shaken, she gladly let John lead her home to Farringham and although she nodded when he spoke, her mind was so paralysed with terror that she didn’t hear a single word. Even if Mr. Hart _hadn’t_ been amongst those affected by the Family he was still acting weird and she had honestly been a little intimidated by the intensity of his stare. If she’d had the Doctor with her she was certain she would’ve been fine but with John oblivious to the whole thing she felt very exposed and terribly afraid.

“Are you alright?” John asked eventually, his voice soft with concern. They were nearly at the school now, having walked the whole way quickly and without stopping once. Rose came out of her reverie just enough to nod and squeeze his hand.

“Fine.” She said with a small smile.

But of course she wasn’t. Between the spaceship in Cooper’s Field and all the lying that was going on about it, Rose was certain that the Family had not only landed but had also started infecting or possessing people somehow and making them do their bidding. And what was worse was that she had no idea what to do now except keep the watch hidden and hope they didn’t find it before...

The watch.

Thinking back, Rose was horrified to realise that she hadn’t checked on it since first thing that morning. First she’d been too busy asking about the meteorite, then upset that John couldn’t come out and later she’d been too preoccupied with thinking about Mr. Hart and the spaceship that in her haste to get cleaned up and downstairs to John she had completely forgotten about it. Panic rising in her, she quickened her pace, all but dragging John up the stairs.

“Are we in a hurry to get somewhere?” he asked as they went careening around a corner. He sounded amused but Rose certainly wasn’t smiling as she raced into their room and headed straight for the mantel.

What she saw there made the fear and panic rooted in her belly bloom like some sickly flowering tree.

“No!” she gasped, scrambling frantic hands over the ledge.

“Rose?” John’s voice was worried. “Are you...”

“No, no, no, no, no...” Rose whimpered, upending trinkets and scattering books in her wake. She needn’t have bothered though – the watch was nowhere to be seen. “No it can’t’ve...it...can’t...”

John was beside her then, gripping her arm to steady her. “Rose? Whatever is the matter?”

He looked worried when she turned to him, breathing heavily to try and stop herself from sobbing out loud but the second he tried to hold her, to comfort her, she lost it completely.

“It’s gone!” she burst out and then collapsed into wrenching sobs.


	9. Chapter Eight

It took quite a while for Rose to calm down enough for John to get any sense out of her and when he did he was surprised at how panicked she was over the loss of the watch.

“It’s probably just fallen off the mantel and one of the maids has put it away elsewhere,” he said reasonably. “I’m certain it will turn up. You mustn’t fret.”

“I can’t just sit around and wait for it to turn up!” Rose cried, all but tearing one of John’s handkerchiefs in two in her agitation. “You don’t _understand_...”

“But it’s just a _watch_.” John said exasperatedly, clearly at a loss. But then a whole new slew of questions seemed to occur to him and they all tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “Why on earth do you have a fob watch anyway? Whose is it? I’m certain I would remember if it was mine.” Rose said nothing, merely looked up at him and trembled, and after a moment John hesitantly asked, “Was it your fathers?”

Her grip on the handkerchief went limp. Of all things she’d been expecting to hear, that had not been one of them. “ _What_?”

“You father – Peter?” John sat down and put a warm hand over both of hers. She was shaking quite badly she realised, and as she looked down at John’s hand and then up at his eyes, dark with concern she suddenly realised where his memory of her dad must have come from.

“I know he died when you were very small,” John continued gently. “I remember you telling me about it – what happened to him. Is it his? Is that why you’re so upset?”

Rose nodded faintly and John gave her a small, sympathetic smile.

“Well. It can’t simply have grown legs and walked away,” he said reassuringly, earning a weak smile from Rose. His voice was soft as he continued, stroking her hand. “Someone must have picked it up, perhaps by accident. I wonder who was cleaning our room this morning...”

“Jenny,” Rose said unthinkingly and then paused, worried. “She was acting a bit funny actually. Said she was sick.”

“Perhaps I should notify the Headmaster,” John frowned, standing. Rose joined him instantly, twisting her hands around the handkerchief he’d given her. “Of course it might all just be a harmless mistake but if a maid is stealing personal belongings from the teaching staff then Rocastle will need to be notified. Why don’t you wait here?”

Rose opened her mouth to protest but then John was touching his thumb to her lips and she fell silent instantly. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” he told her and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before heading off.

Rose lasted approximately thirty seconds before she headed out on her own expedition too.

~*~

  
Jenny was not in her room but her roommate told Rose that she had been out on a bicycle ride to the village that afternoon and should have returned by now.

“I don’no where she is.” the girl said in her thick Irish brogue, bobbing down into a curtsey every few words. “She was meant to be back by now ma’am but I haven’t seen her.”

A quick sweep of the ground floor revealed nothing but Jenny’s bike leant up against the outside of the stables. At least she was somewhere in the building Rose thought grimly as she set about searching the classrooms one by one. The school was large, but not big enough that Jenny would be able to hide for long. Unfortunately there was no sign of her on the second floor either and Rose felt the familiar deep seated worry begin coiling in the pit of her stomach.

John’s history classroom was the last place she visited on the second floor and she lingered a moment before searching it, surveying the orderly rows of desks and John’s familiar looping script on the blackboard. Absently erasing one of the letters with her finger as she went, she reached the desk and fingered his cane, resting innocently on the far edge.

When her finger came away filmy with dust she had to smile before turning her attention back to the task at hand. She had barely begun to go through the contents of his desk however when the door handle rattled ominously. Rose hastily snatched up the cane and looked around for somewhere to hide.

Unfortunately the desks provided little cover so she raced over to the heavy drapes that hung at the window and flung herself behind one of them – and just in time too as the sound of two sets of feet came clicking into the classroom. Rose tried to flatten herself even further against the window and it was as she spread her fingers against the glass that she discovered she was not alone.

Her hand touched something warm and soft and Rose all but leapt out of her skin. Luckily she didn’t scream or start flailing about with her cane because the person she turned out to be sharing her hiding place with was none other than Jenny. The woman looked completely terrified, her eyes popping and her mouth slack. Rose brought her free hand up to her lips and pressed a finger to them silently, hoping that Jenny would get the message.

Nodding fervently to show that she understood, the maid cringed back against the window a little more and Rose turned back to take a cautious peep from behind the curtain at who had invaded the classroom.

Her heart sank at the sight. It was Joan, and close behind her was one of the boys who had been at firing practice this afternoon – Jeremy Baines she thought his name was, or maybe Jared. James?

“Mother of mine,” he said and Joan greeted him in kind.

“Son of mine. Have you had any luck in finding the Time Lord?”

“No Mother of mine.” The boys lip curled. “He has hidden himself well.”

Rose felt a great rush of relief. The Family didn’t know about the watch yet – thank god. And at least now she knew that it was more likely to just be missing and not stolen as she had first suspected.

“Well keep looking,” Joan snapped. “We are running out of time. Keep especially close watch on the History Professor – Smith, and his wife. There’s something not quite right about them.”  
  
Behind the curtain Rose cringed a little despite herself. Jenny trembled beside her.

“I sensed it too,” the boy agreed before sniffing once, distastefully. “They smell...odd.”

“Yes. You must keep me informed.” Joan ordered. “We should contact the others.”

Rose jumped as they both shut their eyes and an otherworldly light, emerald green, glowed around them like sickly haloes. Soon though, the light disappeared and the Family made their way to the door.

“Stay safe Son of mine,” Joan said in farewell as she left the room.

“And you, Mother of mine.” Baines responded.

The door clicked shut and they were gone. Still clutching the cane, Rose turned to Jenny who was standing shock still with terror.

“Alright?” she whispered and the maid nodded but didn’t seem capable of moving. Rose reached out a warm hand and gently tugged Jenny out from behind the curtain. “Look, they’re gone now. It’s safe.”

“Oh-oh ma’am!” Jenny whispered as she collapsed, trembling onto the nearest chair. “I was so afraid it was one of them boys again come to get me!”

And she burst into quiet sobs.

Bewildered, Rose knelt beside Jenny and put a hand on her knee. “What d’you mean? What boys?”

“I was out riding my bicycle home from the village,” Jenny admitted between sobs. “And then they came out of nowhere – all of them dressed up as scarecrows. Boys mucking about. They didn’t half give me a fright ma’am.”

“ _Scarecrows_?” Rose repeated incredulously. “Seriously?”

“As I live and breathe ma’am, I swear.” Jenny said fervently, wiping at her puffy eyes. “I thought for a moment that they might be tryin’ to kidnap me.” She sniffed then and laughed. “What a daft idea! What would they want with me? But they let me go and I rode fast as I could to get back again.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Rose assured her but Jenny still looked worried.

“What were the Matron and Master Baines talking about just then? They said something about you and Mr. Smith didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” Rose said awkwardly. As much as she didn’t believe that Jenny was in league with the Family she still didn’t want to tell her everything. It could be dangerous. “Jenny, do you remember seeing a fob watch in my room this morning? On the mantel?”

Jenny frowned in confusion. “A fob watch ma’am?”

“On the mantel, yeah.” Rose confirmed. “A silver fob watch with a pattern engraved into it. Lots of circles.”

“I’m not sure ma’am,” Jenny said, still frowning. “I don’t think so. Is it important?”

Rose laughed mirthlessly. “It’s the most important thing in the whole world. You sure you don’t remember seeing it?”

Jenny simply shook her head. “I’m sorry Mrs. Smith. I did dust the mantel but I’m not allowed to really touch the Professor’s personal belongings. Especially not jewellery or watches – not worth the trouble if it goes missing you see. My sister lost her job once because the missus of the household found her looking at her necklaces and things. Said she was going to steal something. Course she wouldn’t ever but...”

“If you see the watch around,” Rose interrupted. “Can you let me know? Only it’s gone missing and it was my, um, my fathers. It’s really special.”

“Of course Mrs. Smith.” Jenny said fervently. “Anything ma’am.”

“Thanks,” Rose said, helping her up. “And...be careful yeah?”

They parted company on the stairs and Rose searched the remaining classrooms and common areas from top to bottom before returning to the room she shared with John. To her mixed surprise and consternation he was waiting impatiently for her there, along with their supper.

“Hello,” she said awkwardly as she squeezed through the door. “What’s all this?”

“I asked them to bring our supper up for us a little early,” John explained as he helped her into her seat. “So that we could dine before we head off to the dance this evening. Wherever did you disappear to? I’ve been worried.”

“Oh I was just...I fancied a chat with Joan is all.” Rose lied as she unfolded her napkin. “I wanted to ask her if she’d seen the watch anywhere.”

“I hardly think that you’ll find it merely lying around somewhere.” John said as they set to their supper. “The Headmaster agrees with me.”

“Does he?” Rose said absently, not really caring much what Rocastle had to say on the matter.

“Oh yes,” John continued. “He too believes that somebody must have taken it. I took another look in here to make certain but it’s simply nowhere to be found. The Headmaster is to put a notice out at morning assembly asking for its prompt restoration and if it is not returned then he has given permission to begin searching the servant’s quarters and student dormitories for it.”

“That’s a bit much isn’t it?” Rose frowned. “Searching through people’s things?”

“Well if it is a theft then the perpetrator must be punished,” John said resolutely. “‘Thou shalt not steal’ isn’t one of the ten commandments for nothing Rose. Such rules must be honoured and obeyed if...”

Rose tuned him out. She didn’t really mean to, but she’d developed somewhat of a babble-filter with the Doctor wherein she just let him talk until he exhausted himself and then she asked a dumb question so that he would summarise what he’d just said for her. It helped that she liked listening to his voice of course but that was another story altogether.

John kept up his diatribe all the way through supper and by that time Rose was in half a mind to see if they could cancel their plans to go to the dance so she could stay and keep searching for the watch. Before she could even suggest it however, John had retreated to the wash basin to make himself presentable and soon he was buttoning himself into his best suit.

Resignedly, Rose freshened herself up too and then swapped her daytime clothes and boots for a sparkling evening gown and a pair of beaded pumps. John meanwhile was retying his bowtie for what must’ve been the fiftieth time, grumbling quietly to himself every time it flopped the wrong way. She crept up behind him and took over instead, giving it a gentle pat once it was sitting neatly and then nudged him aside so that she could pin her hair up.

It wasn’t until she’d finished making herself up that she realised John was waiting for her. Patient and quiet, he was sitting on the bed nursing something in his lap, a small Cheshire cat grin on his face.

“What’ve you got?” Rose asked as she joined him, excitement rising in her as she wondered if he hadn’t found the watch after all and kept it as a surprise. When he held out a small, flat box to her instead, she did her best to stave off the crushing weight of disappointment.

“It’s a present,” John told her shyly. “For you. I was going to wait until Christmas time to give it to you but after the events of earlier today...I thought perhaps it might cheer you up. It’s no fob watch but...”

Rose took it from him curiously and gently removed the lid. She gaped at the contents, stunned. “Is that...?”

“It’s silver,” John explained, taking the ornate hair comb out of the box eagerly and showing it off, as proud as if he had crafted it himself. “Sterling Silver. With marcasite chips...or, well, pyrite I suppose because marcasite is actually too brittle to be used in...”

“John,” Rose said firmly, stopping him before he got too carried away.

“Oh. Yes. Do you like it?”

He looked worried and Rose had just opened her mouth to assure him that of course she did when he began to babble. “I mean it isn’t much. It’s not as though they’re diamonds or-or-or gems or pearls but...well I saw it and I thought-I thought it would look lovely in your hair so I-I...”

Rose shut him up by pressing a hasty kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I _love_ it.” She told him and John’s eyes lit up as she took the comb and held it up to her hair so that she could observe the sparkle of the marcasite (or pyrite or whatever the hell it was) in the mirror. “Might not be diamonds,” she told him with a smile. “But it’s still beautiful. Thank you.”

She kissed him softly and he looked very pleased with himself.

“Aren’t you going to wear it now?” he asked, frowning, when she dropped it back into the box.

“Nope. I’m gonna save it for Christmas.” she carefully popped the lid back on the box again as she spoke. “It’s too special to wear to some dance thing in the village.”

John looked absurdly pleased with this assessment and Rose didn’t dare tell him that the action was really more for her own piece of mind than his. Murphy’s law; if she wore it tonight, something awful was bound to happen. If she saved it for later then maybe, just maybe, they’d get through okay. The power of positive thought and all that.

“Oh I wouldn’t really say...” John was stammering. “It’s just a bauble after all...a trifle really...”

“ _I_ think it’s lovely.” Rose informed him and then got to her feet and offered her arm. “Shall we?”

~*~

  
To Rose’s intense delight, John’s surprises didn’t finish with the hair ornament. He’d also enlisted their old friend Freddie Yale to give them a lift into the village in his car so that she wouldn’t have to walk the whole way in her good shoes and once there, everyone seemed to be doing their best to divert her. After an initial whirlwind of waltzes and quicksteps, they were surprised to have a song dedicated to them in honour of John’s earlier heroics and soon after they were engulfed briefly by admirers.

Once the crowd had died down a little, Rose decided to sit for a while and John gratefully followed her to a table.

“Goodness!” he laughed. “All of that talking has made me rather thirsty. Would you care for a drink?”

“I’d love one. Cheers.” she smiled up at him, and after he’d disappeared Rose took the opportunity to watch all the other couples dancing happily around the village hall.

It was only then that she noticed the boy sitting quietly in the far corner.

She didn’t know how long he’d been there but Rose would have recognised the uniform anywhere. Panicking a little, she tried to get a good look at who it was without openly staring – more difficult than you would think being as she was in a room full of people who were all milling about and generally getting in the way.

Thankfully, the interloper wasn’t Baines as she had originally feared. Even so, the students had a strict curfew so what was one of them doing out of his dormitory so late?

Getting to her feet, Rose inched her way around the other tables until she was within earshot and then she called out.

“Tim right?” the boy tried to make a show of pretending like he hadn’t been watching her approach but quickly gave in. “Timothy Lattimer?”

“Yes Mrs. Smith,” he said, squirming a little in his chair, a tight look to his face.

“Shouldn’t you be in your dorm?”

“Shouldn’t you be out travelling the stars?” he muttered and Rose went suddenly cold.

“What?” she tried to act nonchalant but Tim looked up at her sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he told. “But...I know everything, Rose Tyler.”

“How d’you...?” Rose wondered faintly and then she realised. “Oh my god – you’re with them too aren’t you?”

“What?” Timothy looked confused. “No! I-I found the watch. The fob watch?”

“ _You’ve_ got it?” Rose felt a rush of relief that was quickly replaced by frustration. “I’ve been looking for it _all_ day! When’d you swipe it? When you came to get that book?”

Tim had the grace to look abashed. “It called to me,” he told her apologetically. “It told me to keep it safe.”

Rose bristled. “Yeah well you didn’t need to,” she told him, feeling quite put out. “I was doing just fine looking after it myself thanks.”

“Yes but that’s just the thing,” Timothy said, glancing around the room surreptitiously before continuing on in a hushed voice. “You can’t just keep it safe any longer Rose – you’re going to have to open it. They’re here, in the village, the school, and they’re getting closer and closer to...”

“Look I _know_ the Family’s here alright? But I can’t open it until the three months are up!” Rose hissed. “Otherwise...”

“Lattimer?” John’s voice came, loud and confused into their conversation. He was holding two drinks – a beer for himself and a glass of something clear and bubbling for Rose. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was just leaving sir,” Timothy said quickly and got to his feet. “Good night sir. Ma’am.”

John frowned in consternation as the boy sped off, glancing back over his shoulder at the two of them as he did so.

“What was all that about?” John wanted to know and Rose shrugged, leading him back to the table they had acquired earlier.

“Nothing,” she lied. “He just wanted to say hello.”

“Oh,” John said, but he was still frowning as he put down their drinks and made to settle down in his chair.

“So!” Rose said, faux cheerful as she plucked up her glass and tilted it towards her mouth. “What’d you get me? Wine? Champagne?”

John opened his mouth to speak but just at that moment there was the unmistakable sound of a laser weapon being fired close by. Rose bolted to her feet in shock and whipped her head around, searching. It took her several seconds to place where the noise had come from.

“There will be silence!” a familiar voice roared from the main door. “All of you!”

Rose looked on in horror as a crowd of scarecrows shambled into the hall headed by Mr. Hart, Baines and Joan. Several people screamed and Hart glared around at them all.

“I said silence!” he roared and there was a short sputter as the record player stopped.

“I say Mr. Hart!” Mr. Chambers, the emcee stood up. “What’s going on?”

Without any preamble, Hart turned and fired his weapon, disintegrating Mr. Chambers into nothing.

“No!” Rose burst out before she could stop herself.

“We asked for silence!” Baines ordered and then turned his gaze to the crowd, clearly searching for someone. His eyes paused when he reached Rose and she stiffened as his gaze slid from her to John who immediately stood up and put a hand on her arm. “Now then! We have a few questions for Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

Rose grabbed John’s hand where it rested on her arm. He for his part just looked utterly bewildered.

“I beg your pardon?” he spluttered. “W-what’s going on here?”

A little voice piped up from the corner as if in answer and Rose was shocked to see Lucy Cartwright standing up quite calmly, a balloon caught in her hand and a hard look in her eyes.

“There is no need for questions Family of mine!” she said gleefully as she moved to join the other three. “The teacher is the Doctor. I heard his wife talking to one of the boys!”

John looked down at Rose in shock but she didn’t dare meet his gaze. Instead she looked at the Family, the bodies they had taken over.

“You took human form,” Baines observed, eyeing John with interest.

“I’m sorry?”John spluttered. “Of course I’m human – I was born human! As were you Baines, and Matron, and you, Mr. Hart! What is going on?”

“Oh, and a human brain too!” Baines said in delight. “Simple, thick and _dull_.”

“Well he certainly isn’t going to be any good to us like this,” Joan said, her usually quiet voice cold and flat.

“We need a Time Lord,” Hart agreed.

“Oh,” Baines shrugged. “Well that’s easily done.”

Stepping forward casually, he raised his arm so that his gun was pointing straight at John. There was a collective gasp around the room and Rose gripped his arm so tight she was certain she was cutting off the circulation.

“Change back.” Baines ordered simply.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John said, voice wobbling even as he surreptitiously tried to push Rose behind him and out of harm’s way. She clung stubbornly to his sleeve, refusing to budge.

“Change _back_!” Baines snarled and John raised his own voice in turn, somewhat hysterically in his case.

“I literally, do not know...”

“Oh enough of this!” Joan spat and pulled out her own gun before advancing on them both. “We have no time for games, Time Lord!”

Instinctively Rose went to dodge one way and John the other, but Joan merely went for the closest victim.

“No!” John cried, reaching out desperately for his wife. But Joan was too fast. Before he could do anything Rose was in a half nelson with a gun pressed against her temple.

“What if I shoot your wife?” Joan leered at John, her breath hot and horrible on Rose’s cheek. “Does that frighten you enough to change back Doctor?” she abruptly tightened her hold and Rose choked a little at the pressure on her windpipe. “Does it?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” John said desperately. “Please! Let my wife go, she’s done nothing to warrant this!”

“Not until you change _back_.” Baines took a menacing step forward, his eyes dancing with cold malice. “You have until the count of five Time Lord, and then Mother of mine will pull the trigger and your love will be no more. _One_.”

John stood, horror struck. Lucy watched the proceedings with fascinated excitement, egging Baines on with hissed whispers of encouragement. Hart merely watched coldly as Rose struggled against Joan’s stranglehold, but to no avail.

“John,” she gasped once she’d realised she wasn’t going to breaking free anytime soon. “Whatever happens to me, it’s not your fault alright?”

He looked utterly lost, hands fluttering uselessly. “Rose...” he whispered pleadingly but she only closed her eyes and swallowed hard.  
  
“ _Two_.”

God this was really it, wasn’t it? There was no Doctor around to save her in the nick of time. Worse, she had failed to save him. The Family was going to get him one way or another; she was just a hindrance to them really at this point. A bargaining chip.

“Please...” John begged, sounding close to tears. “Please I-I don’t...”

“ _Three_.”

“Wait, stop! Please! Don’t!”

His voice cracked into a terrified shriek and Rose felt sick. She was about to die seventy years before she’d even been born and then the Doctor was going to die and she couldn’t do a thing about it. Fleetingly she thought of non-linear timelines and a cool hand threading desperately through hers.

_We’ll go down fighting yeah?_

_I’m so glad I met you._  
  
“I’ll do anything! _Anything_ you ask of me. Just please let her go!”

“I ask you to change back Doctor and you will not. Thus, I resume my counting. _Four_!”

John sobbed desperately. “ _Please_!”

And then a new voice spoke – in her mind or her ear she couldn’t tell. A voice that Rose had only heard as a recording in over two months and it said two words – just two.

_Time Lord..._

Rose’s eyes flew open in shock at the same moment that Joan stiffened and her grip loosened just enough to let Rose duck out of her stranglehold. Wrestling the gun clumsily from the Matrons limp hand, Rose backed into John, trying desperately to point it at all four members of the Family at the same time.

“Nobody move!” she shouted, voice cracking like mad and hands trembling. “Or I’ll shoot!”

“Rose!” John gasped although whether his tone was admiring or shocked she couldn’t quite tell.

Baines merely laughed at her and Rose felt her temper flare. “What, don’t think I will?” she fired a quick shot just over his head and blew a gaping hole in the wall. The Family looked instantly warier.

“Careful, Son of mine,” Hart said warningly. “This is all for you so that you can live forever...”

“Shoot you down!” Baines seemed to barely be in control of himself, his hand trembling around his gun.

“Go on then.” Rose goaded him. “Try it! Go on!”

Baines looked quite deranged and for a second Rose thought he might actually shoot her. “Oh how I should like to!” he said with relish, grip tightening on the gun momentarily before, casual as you please, he lowered it to his side. Rose didn’t move. Keeping her eyes glued on the Family she spoke to John over her shoulder.

“John, get everyone out. There’s gotta be a back exit or something.” When he didn’t move Rose stomped on his foot as hard as she could. “John!”

“Ah!” he yelped but then seemed to recover his scattered wits a little. “Right. Yes. Everyone out!” he began to shepherd them all to the door. The villagers pushed and shoved and screamed their way to the door and then scarpered as fast as they could. Rose edged backwards towards the door too, all the while keeping an eye on the Family.

“So you found us then,” she said, pausing in the doorway and trying to sound tougher and braver than she felt. She didn’t really have a good track record in terms of negotiating with hostile aliens so hopefully that was all about to change. “Took your time didn’t you?”

Behind the doorframe John tugged at her flimsy overskirt desperately but Rose batted him away with her free hand. She had an idea brewing but she had to find the right spot to shoot first and for that she had to stall for a little time.

“Yes but it will all be worth it,” Joan said, her pale eyes glittering as she stepped forward. “To live and breed all across the universe. Eternal life!” she inhaled deeply, as if already savouring the smell of success.

“And then what?” Rose asked, eyes still darting around but always returning to the Family. “You gonna leave Joan and Lucy and the others alone? Do they go back to normal?”

“Oh I’m afraid they’re quite dead.” Baines said casually but at Rose’s stricken look he tutted sympathetically. “Oh but look! She has a tender heart this one.”

“You killed them.” Rose said, sickened. “Joan and Mr. Hart...Lucy was just a little girl! How could you _do_ that?”

“Oh but how could we _not_ Mrs. Smith?” Hart said, eyes gleaming. “It’s a small price to pay really. For immortality.”

“For immortality!” Lucy repeated reverently and Rose nearly lost what little composure she had gathered.

“You...!” she stopped herself before she started ranting and then once she’d collected herself she shook her head at the Family. “Not kids,” she said quietly, close to tears. “Not a little girl. That’s just _disgusting_.”

“Oh how the heart bleeds.” Baines intoned dramatically and then scoffed at her. “So what is your plan now silly girl? Or are you just going to stand there all night and witter on like some...”

Rose seized her chance. Raising the gun, she aimed it, not at the Family but at the ceiling. Several quick shots and one of the main support beams fell down, bringing half of the roof with it.

Turning to John she found him slack-jawed and shock still. “Don’t just stand there staring!” she snapped, all but shoving him out the door. “Run!”

Outside they paused to look back at the hall and Rose was amazed to see how much damage she’d actually done. “Wow.” she said and John turned to her, utterly speechless.

“That was...that...” he stammered and Rose waited nervously for his verdict. “Utterly _magnificent_! How on _Earth_ did you know to do that?”

“Smarter than I look yeah?” Rose grinned cheekily and then squealed as John lifted her off her feet in an impromptu hug so reminiscent of the Doctor that she was inclined to forget that it wasn’t him.

“Get them!”

Jumping out of John’s arms, Rose took one look at the Family and their army of scarecrows before she turned tail and fled, John in hot pursuit. Rose fired her stolen gun over her shoulder several times as they ran, hoping she might discourage the Family from following but the shots grew weaker and weaker until there was nothing to fire at all.

“Stupid laser guns!” Rose huffed as she tossed it aside. “You’d think somebody’d invent one with decent batteries!”

“Batt-what?” John repeated, bewildered.

“Oh for...never mind! Run!”


	10. Chapter Nine

They ran, Rose clutching her shoes in one hand and her skirts in the other. Her first instinct was to go to the TARDIS and John merely followed her lead without question. It wasn’t until she began to draw near to the shed where it was hidden that she began to realise that she couldn’t take him there or the Family would find it too.

Well, that and she didn’t want to have to explain the TARDIS to John.

Realising that she had no idea where she was actually going, Rose stopped so abruptly that John ran into the back of her and nearly knocked her over.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” he gabbled, quickly taking hold of her waist so that she didn’t fall. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Rose said breathlessly. The truth of it was that her corset was restricting her lung capacity so much that she had developed a killer stitch on their run. Up until now the adrenalin had been masking the pain but now she found herself gritting her teeth and pressing an ineffectual hand against her side. John placed a gentle hand on her back as well and rubbed pointless circles, as though it might help her to recover her breath.

“Oh Rose,” he said, leaning down to press his forehead to her temple. He sounded almost as breathless as she did. “I’m sorry the night has been so awful.”

She barked out a laugh that was probably closer to a sob than anything else. “Not your fault,” she told him. John slipped his arm a little more securely around her waist as she spoke – not so much supporting himself against her now as embracing her. As her breath returned and she slowly straightened back to standing he drew his other arm around her body and cradled her head delicately against the hollow of his neck.

“I still don’t understand.” He admitted breathlessly. “What did they want with _me_?”

Rose reached up to stroke his cheek and couldn’t help but hate herself for lying. “Wish I knew.”

“They seem to think that I’m someone other than who I really am,” John continued bleakly before seeming to realise something. “That little girl, what did you say her name was?”

“What, Lucy?”

“Yes,” John affirmed, releasing her from his embrace. “She said...she said that you were talking to someone about the Doctor. They called me a-a _Time Lord_.” Rose said nothing and John peered at her searchingly through the darkness. “Have you been telling people about the stories from my journal?”

Rose considered, still idly holding a hand over her stitch and breathing deeply in order to buy her enough time to think. _Should_ she tell John the truth? Could his false life still be salvaged when it was being torn down around him? More to the point, would telling him about the Doctor help them to defeat the Family or would he just lose the plot altogether?

“Rose?” he pressed and she bit her lip. She didn’t want to make things worse than they already were and John was already frightened – she could tell.

“No.” She lied finally. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“You’re certain?” John demanded, reaching forward to take hold of her wrist. “You’re the only one I’ve ever told about my dreams. How could they possibly...?”

“Well maybe they stole it and read it?” Rose suggested desperately. John went to protest but she cut across him again. “Look, I dunno John but they obviously believe that you’ve got something they want so either way we’ve gotta keep you safe yeah? Cos they’re gonna come after us wherever we go.”

“You’re right,” John’s face was pinched as he scanned the surrounding darkness, as though the Family were going to leap out at them at any moment. “We must move on. We’ve lingered far too long as it is.”

“Hold on,” Rose stopped him as he went to leave. “Where d’you think you’re going?”

“Aren’t we going back to Farringham?” John said, surprised. “I thought you were leading us there.”

“No! I was just...running.” Rose lied. “I wasn’t thinking about where I was going. Anyway, we can’t go back to the school. We have to think of somewhere else.”

“But it makes sense to go back there...” John began and Rose shot him an incredulous look.

“You do realise that it’s the first place they’ll go looking for us?”

“Of course,” John snapped, obviously irritated that she had cut him off. “Rose, nobody at the school knows what’s happened in the village! At this very moment they are all sitting ducks. We have to warn them so that they can protect themselves!”

Rose stared at him for a long moment before offering a very small realisation of, “Oh my god, they’ll let them right in won’t they? They won’t even think.”

“Quite.” John said grimly. “So if you’re ready to move on...?” at her hasty nod he took hold of her hand. “Come along then, quickly before they catch us up.”

Rose stumbled along, John’s hand her only lifeline in the darkness as he led her cross country to the school. The pain of her stitch had abated slightly during their brief rest but it soon swelled to monstrous proportions again, making it difficult for her to breathe. It didn’t stop her brain from ticking over though and they were nearly at the school when she began to worry about what exactly John had meant when he’d said they had to warn everyone.

“John...” she began breathlessly.

“Mmmn?”

“When you said the school needed to be warned so they could protect themselves...” she left it hanging and John glanced back at her briefly before continuing on steadily.

“We load what weapons we have, take post and wait.”

Rose felt her insides go cold and slippery with dread. “You’re serious?” she demanded of him, still not quite believing what he’d just suggested. “Bullets against lasers? You think that’s gonna be a fair fight?” John didn’t answer and so she pressed on with, “You _saw_ what happened to Mr. Chambers in the village...”

“Perhaps one man can’t fight them alone,” John agreed impatiently. “But at Farringham we teach our students to stand together. To unite as one and...”

“But they’re just kids!” Rose jerked her hand out of his in order to place it against her side where the stitch was cutting into her anew. “You can’t ask them to fight! The Family’ll kill them!”

“Then they will die as heroes!” John stopped dead and wheeled around to face her, livid. “They will not run away like snivelling cowards!”

“It’s not cowardly!” Rose yelled. “It’s _suicide_ John!”

John opened his mouth to yell back at her but then he stopped himself and turned away from her abruptly. Knowing that something she’d said had finally gotten through to him, Rose softened her voice and appealed gently to him. “Look, I know you’re scared,” she laughed a little as she admitted, “I’m scared too! I’ve already had a gun put to my head tonight. But d’you really wanna be responsible for anyone else dying? Cause if you make the boys fight then it’s not gonna be a battle, John. It’s gonna be a _bloodbath_.”

John paused for a long, bleak moment before he turned back to her.

“Oh Rose,” he looked simply devastated and Rose jumped as he grabbed her in a desperately tight embrace. “I’m so frightened. I’ve never...” he let out a shuddering breath and pulled back to cup her face tenderly. “You’re right,” he told her softly. “Of course you are. I can’t allow the boys to fight this battle for me. What sort of man would that make me?” he dropped his eyes and his hands from her face. “If these monsters want me then...they will have me. I will face them alone.”

He tilted his chin away dejectedly but Rose carefully brought his gaze back to her with a gentle touch. Reaching down with her other hand, she took hold of his and brought it up between them. John looked down at their linked hands in surprise, then met her gaze.

“Not alone,” she reminded him softly, squeezing his hand firmly. “I’m with you yeah? Whatever happens.”

John looked equal parts relieved and apprehensive.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that Rose.”

Rose’s lips quirked into a smile and she shook her head. “You don’t have to ask Docto-” John blinked in surprise at her slip up and Rose hastily plastered on a smile. “ _John_.” She corrected herself through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to ask me, _John_.”

“Rose...” John began softly, his eyes questioning. But before he could say anything further she tugged on his hand and they began to cut across the closest field. She waited for the questions to begin, what the Family wanted, why they thought he was the Doctor, why _she’d_ just called him Doctor...

When he finally spoke it was not what she had expected.

“How did you know how to use it?”

Rose frowned back at him in confusion. “Use what?”

“The...gun.” he explained falteringly. “You’ve always seemed to loathe them...yet when occasion called for it you used it so easily.”

Rose shrugged and focused on the path ahead, the warmth of John’s hand in hers. “S’just a gun. Far as I can tell it’s not that hard to use. You just point and pull the trigger.”

John was silent for a long moment and Rose waited and worried about his next question. Then she heard a strange sound.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded of him. What had started off as a quiet chuckle though was quickly evolving into a full blown laugh and she was worried that somebody unfriendly might hear them.

“You are _such_ a surprising woman,” John said, sobering once she’d pointed out just that. “It’s quite wonderful.”

“Well hopefully there’ll be no more surprises after this,” Rose muttered to herself as they jogged across the final stretch of open land before the school. The minute they were inside they bolted the front door shut behind them and John headed for the bell that was used to signal the change of classes and began to call for an evacuation.

Rose stood by him as the boys began streaming downstairs, ruffled and confused but ready for action.

“Evacuate!” John bellowed. “Out to the stable door and await further instruction! Evacuate!”

“I say sir,” Rose heard one of the boys say as he rushed down the stairs two at a time. “What on Earth is the matter?”

“Enemy at the door, Hutchinson. Enemy at the door and we are EVACUATING! Take no belongings.”

The boys seemed confused by the order but obediently began to flee towards the stables.

“Can you go with them and guide them to safety?” John asked Rose, still ringing the bell as though his life depended on it.

“What, you think they’ll actually listen to me?” Rose scoffed, but then she noticed that John was very carefully not looking her in the eye and she grew instantly suspicious. “Hold on, what’re _you_ gonna do?”

“Well,” John began nervously. “I’m going to go upstairs. And I’m going to load up one of the rifles...”

“Like hell you will-!” Rose began and at the profanity John’s face twisted in shock. Thankfully they were both saved the agony of the ensuing conversation by the arrival of the Headmaster who announced his presence by barging into the room and puffing himself up until he looked very much like a blowfish wearing a mortarboard.

“What in _thunder’s_ name is this?” he demanded, livid. The remaining stragglers, student and teacher alike, froze. When no answer came Rocastle pressed his lips together and glared around at the assembled. “I think that someone had better explain to me _exactly_ what is going on here.” He said icily.

There was a pregnant pause that followed during which all heads slowly turned to John, still standing with the bell raised above his head. He let his arm drop to his side with an awkward _clang_ before speaking up.

“Headmaster,” he said hesitantly. “I’m afraid that I have to report that the school is under attack. Or rather... _will_ be very shortly.”

“Really?” Rocastle looked both unimpressed and unconvinced. “If that is the case then perhaps you and I should have a word in private Mr. Smith.”

“I promise you, sir,” John continued desperately. “I was in the village with my wife. Its Baines, sir, Jeremy Baines and Mr. Hart from the village. They’ve gone mad, sir and they’ve got guns. They’ve already murdered Mr. Chambers. I saw it happen right before my own eyes.”

Rocastle immediately turned to Rose for confirmation. “Mrs. Smith is that so?”

“Yes sir.” She said quickly.

“Murder on our own soil?” Rocastle pressed.

“Yeah.” Rose answered without thinking and quickly corrected herself. “I mean, yes.”

“Perhaps you did well then, Mr. Smith.” Rocastle said with satisfaction, turning back to John. “But what makes you think that the danger’s coming here?”

“Cause they threatened him,” Rose blurted and everyone in the room stared at her like she’d grown a second head. For probably the millionth time since landing here, Rose had to refrain from rolling her eyes at them. Honestly! _Men_. “Baines and the others. They tried to use me as bait, so John would give them what they wanted.”

Rocastle frowned. “And what is it they wanted?”

“I...dunno.” she lied before sharing a glance with John. He didn’t correct her but he certainly looked uneasy. “They weren’t really making much sense. Headmaster. Sir.”

“Very well,” Rocastle said decisively and then began barking out orders. “You boys, up to the armoury and ready the guns. Mr. Philips will assist. You, Hutchinson, go and retrieve those who have retreated through the stables. Mr. Snell, telephone the police. Professor Ratcliff, with me. We shall investigate.”

“No but...” Rose ran to Rocastle and gripped his arm. “You don’t understand! It’s not safe out there!”

Rocastle’s lip curled and he shook his arm from her grip aloofly. “Mr. Smith,” he said curtly. “Your wife should go and assist Matron Redfern.”

John and Rose exchanged a brief look of panic.

“Sir,” John said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “The Matron was with Baines and Hart in the village.”

Even Rocastle looked momentarily rocked by this news but then his face hardened. “Very well then. Mrs. Smith, you are now our acting nurse in chief. You will tend to the wounded. I suggest you go and ready yourself.”

Rose gaped. “No, but...”

“You will do as I say!” Rocastle snapped and everyone in the room jumped. “All of you! To your posts immediately!”

Those assembled scattered every which way and Rose took advantage of the pandemonium (and Rocastle being distracted by giving out yet more orders) to grasp John by the arm and pull him into a corner.

“You can’t let him do this.” She said fiercely. “You can’t win against them – the boys’ll all be killed!”

John shook his head despairingly and touched her cheek briefly. “I know.” he said simply before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her mouth, an apology for what he was about to do.

“No but – you can stop it!” Rose said desperately, tearing her lips away from his. “Just tell him! Tell Rocastle you can’t win!”

“Rose...”

“You can’t let this happen!” Rose said, all but crying with frustration. “You can’t!”

“What choice do I have?” John said miserably. “The Headmaster will not be swayed and I cannot leave them to fight for me. I must stay and protect them as best I can.” He straightened then, resolute and proud and not in the least bit terrified. “Even if it means that I have to give myself over to them.”

Rose drew in a sharp, horrified breath. “No.” She whispered, clutching unthinkingly at the hem of his jacket. “No you...you _can’t_ John, you can’t let them get hold of you! They’ll _kill_ you, they’ll-they’ll...”

She trailed off into a dry sob, covering her mouth with her free hand even as Rocastle called for John to join himself and Ratcliff. Looking up she met John’s gaze and despite the fear she could see the determination in his face.

“If I cannot run then I must fight.” he said quietly before departing.

~*~

  
Rose waited until John had disappeared from the room and then she dove back into the fray with a renewed sense of purpose.

She’d never thought that John would be so willing to sacrifice himself to save someone else. It was so very _Doctor_ that it frightened her. She couldn’t just let him hand himself over to the Family – especially when she still didn’t know where the watch was.

So she had to find Tim Lattimer.

Unfortunately the boy in question turned out to be a slippery fish to catch. There were boys rushing about all over the place, and every time Rose thought she’d caught a glimpse of her quarry she was dismayed to discover that it wasn’t him. She was beginning to despair of ever finding him and had resigned herself to searching the whole school by herself (again) when she had an unexpected stroke of luck.

She had barely stepped into one of the abandoned dormitories when a boy leapt out from behind the door in his dressing gown, wielding a hockey stick and ready to brain her.

“Jenkins!” Rose screamed when she realised who it was. “It’s just me!”

The boys pale face crumpled. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and there was a faint sheen of perspiration on his skin. “Mrs. Smith.” he repeated, as though he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He was swaying badly, his grip on the hockey stick limp.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Rose put a placating hand out until he let the hockey stick fall to his side and then she quickly helped him to sit on the nearest bed before he fell over. “Charlie, what’re you doing?”

“Protecting myself.” The boy said proudly. “I came down with the others but Rocastle sent me back up here. Said I’d only be a hindrance.” He looked disgusted with himself at the very thought, and even more so when he admitted, “ _Lattimer_ had to help me up the stairs.”

“Lattimer?” Rose said, excited. “Tim Lattimer you mean? Where is he? Have you seen him?”

Despite his obvious disdain for the younger boy, Jenkins was loathe to dob him in. But after some prompting he admitted somewhat grudgingly that the other boy had gone into hiding. “He left me in the first floor corridor,” he explained. “Hid up one end. I don’t know why.”

Rose didn’t even bother to thank him before she was off and running. Darkened corridors and stairwells led the familiar way to the first floor corridor and maybe, just maybe if she could find Tim she could get the watch back from him and _then_ she could use it to distract the Family, lure them away from the school and from John before he did something silly. And then...

And then. Well. She’d just have to figure that one out as she went along. It worked for the Doctor right? She could fly by the seat of her pants for once too couldn’t she?

Rounding the final corner so quickly that she clipped the wall painfully with her shoulder, Rose burst into the first floor corridor and found...

“Not here.” she said dumbly. “He’s...he’s not...” she patted the wall beside her vainly, as though the boy in question might spring out of the wood work.

Abruptly, from the front of the school, the gunfire stopped abruptly and there followed a long and horrible silence. Rose’s heart stopped for a long moment and then began beating double time when she heard a laser gun being fired and then the unmistakable cries of panicked children.

She ran.

By the time she managed to make it back downstairs the fight seemed to be well and truly over, John hastily shepherding the boys out through the stables once more.

“What happened?” Rose demanded, racing over to him. “Why’d you stop fighting? John?”

He gestured a few more boys through the door, not daring to look at her and Rose instantly began to panic, fearing the absolute worst.

“Are they coming?” she asked, in horror. “Did they break through?”

“Yes,” John said shortly. “And Ratcliff...Rocastle...”

“What about them?” she pressed but then stopped dead at his stricken expression. “John?”

“It was Baines.” John managed. “And the little girl, Lucy. They...” he stopped suddenly, looking like he was about to be sick. Rose quickly grasped his arm to steady him, realising all on her own what must have happened.

“Oh my god...” she whispered, feeling her own personal wave of nausea rush over her.

“The Headmaster wouldn’t believe me,” John lamented. “I told him she was dangerous but he tried to help her. And she...”

He broke off and Rose gripped his hand desperately in both of hers. “John...”

“This is my fault,” he snapped, breaking free of her grip and beginning to pace, running frantic hands through his hair so that it stuck up everywhere. “I should have warned him, I should have _told_ Rocastle...”

“You _tried_...”

“Trying isn’t _good enough_!” John cried, slamming his hand against the doorframe. Rose jumped. “Trying is nowhere _near_ good enough when people are being _murdered_ Rose! _Right_ in front of me! First Mr. Chambers, then Ratcliff. Now the Headmaster...”

He let out a sob and Rose hastily took his hands in hers before he began hitting things again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry John.”

“I’m frightened,” John admitted, all but crushing her hand in his, his eyes red from crying. “Rose I’m...I’m so very afraid. I don’t _understand_...w-why?”

Her heart broke for him but there was no time to waste hanging around if the Family were about to burst through the doors at any minute.

“We’ve gotta go,” Rose told him gently and to her surprise John simply nodded and wiped his eyes. The moment she opened the stable door however, she found herself face to face with a crowd of scarecrows. Automatically slamming the door shut again, she grabbed John’s hand and pulled her startled husband in the opposite direction. “Think we should run!”

Through the school and out the back door to the firing range, together they scrambled through the woods and made their way back around to the front of the school. There they paused, hidden from sight, and Rose watched in horror as more of the Family’s scarecrow mercenaries dragged the TARDIS into view.

“No.” She whispered, sinking to her knees in the mud and feeling like she was about to cry. What else could possibly go wrong tonight?

“What on Earth _is_ that thing?” John wondered from beside her, still pale and obviously shaken. “Some sort of...shed?”

Rose turned to him in surprise. “Don’t you recognise it?”

John shook his head, still staring at the Police Box in confusion. “Should I?” He looked at her questioningly but Rose took his hand instead of answering.

“We can’t stay here,” she said curtly and as she led him away they clearly heard Mr. Hart calling out, taunting them.

“Doctor!” Hart sing-songed at the top of his lungs. “Oh Doctor! We’ve got yer TAR-DIS! Doctorrrrr!”

~*~

  
The jeering of the Family followed them deep into the woods. Once they were far enough away from the school, Rose led them back onto the road and they ran along it in spurts and starts, breathing heavily and keeping an eye out for scarecrows. They were almost to the village however when they paused for breath next to a field with a very familiar tree. Rose ignored the pain of her screaming quadriceps and intercostals and instead pressed on down a lesser used path.

“Where are we going?” John asked, plodding along behind her. He sounded exhausted.

“Shh,” Rose hushed him. “Just follow me.” Several minutes later a small cottage came into view and Rose breathed a great sigh of relief.

“Whose home is this?” John whispered as she pushed open the door and pulled him inside, bolting it shut behind them.

“The Cartwrights,” Rose explained as she surveyed the room. A tea set was laid out on the table but the chairs were all empty, the little cottage dark and still. “I met Lucy Cartwright a few weeks back – I gave her a lift home on my bike when it was raining. I met her mum...” she blinked away sudden tears. “Margaret. If Lucy came home this afternoon after she was possessed...”

“Possessed?” John said weakly as he sat down at the table. “You think they’ve been taken by the devil?”

“Different kind of devil to what you’re thinking but basically yeah.” Rose lifted the lid on the teapot and heard the disconcerting swish of cold tea when she tilted it to peer inside. The sound brought on a fresh wave of nausea, thinking about Margaret and how lovely she’d been. Dead now, she thought dully, and probably little more than atoms amongst the dust on the floor.

“I must go to them,” John realised blankly. “Before anyone else dies.”

“You _can’t_ ,” Rose snapped. “If you do then they’ll kill you. Or worse.”

“They must be open to reasoning...” John began to protest but Rose stamped him back down quickly.

“After what you saw them do to all those people you think they’re going to _reason_ with you?”

“Well what then?” John demanded. “We stay here and hide like cowards? We run away?”

“Why not?” Rose retorted. “It’s what the Doctor did!”

John mouth dropped open in shock just as there was a sudden knock on the door and they both jumped.

“Is it them?” John whispered, paling.

“Why would they knock when they’ve got guns?” Rose hissed and John looked abashed as she crept over to the door, unbolted it and then opened it a crack.

Timothy stood serenely on the threshold, palm outstretched and the silver fob watch resting in the very middle. It shone dimly in the light from the moon and up until now Rose would have been glad to have it back but now...at the very sight of it, all of the panic and rush of the night seemed to come to a screaming halt and in a moment of supreme clarity, she realised that her time was well and truly up and she _still_ wasn’t ready.

“No,” she blurted and, unthinkingly, went to shut the door in the poor boys face.

“Wait!” Timothy cried, lunging forwards to stop her, and then John was beside her, pushing the door back open again.

“Lattimer?” he said in surprise. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“You have to open the watch,” the boy said urgently, pushing past Rose so that he could press it into John’s hand. “You have to bring the Doctor back.”

John spluttered, glancing between the boy before him and the watch in his hand. “ _What_?”

“Tim,” Rose pleaded, bolting the door shut again, just in case. “He doesn’t know.”

“What don’t I know?” John demanded. “How does Timothy know about the Doctor? What have you told him?”

Timothy shook his head. “She hasn’t told me anything sir.”

John fumbled for an explanation. “Then you read my journal.”

Timothy shook his head again. “The watch told me. The Doctor is real sir, as real as anything. And we need him back. Please.”

“Ridiculous,” John scoffed and turned to Rose. “What have you been telling this boy? Bedtime stories? Filling his head with...with foolishness?” Rose said nothing, tongue tied, and John waited, turning from her to Lattimer and back again. “Rose?” he said, pleadingly. “Rose please tell me that this is all some sort of awful misunderstanding.”

“John...” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’m...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...”

“This is a joke!” John declared loudly, putting the watch down heavily on the table. “A prank! Nothing more!”

“I’m sorry sir but it isn’t,” Timothy said awkwardly then turned to Rose pleadingly. “Please tell him. You have to tell him. People are dying.”

Rose had to take several deep breaths before she could manage anything coherent. John was staring at her, pale and shocked and terrified as she sat down at the table and put her hands into her lap.

“The Doctor...he’s real.” Rose finally managed. “And you’re not.”

John said nothing, merely stared for a long time, and for all the ways that she’d imagined this conversation going, Rose had never thought it would be quite like this. Finally, he placed the watch deliberately down on the table and pulled out a second chair beside Rose.

“What do you mean I’m not real?” he said, voice sharp. “How can you tell me that I’m not _real_?”

Rose felt her lip begin to tremble. “Cos you’re not.”

John scoffed and stood up, turning away from her. “This is ludicrous...”

“He made you up,” Rose explained desperately, rising to meet him. “Like as a cover story, so he could hide from the Family. Only they found us so...” she swallowed. “Now we’ve got to open the watch.”

“Your fathers watch.” John gazed down at the time piece, innocuous on the tabletop.

“It’s not my dads,” Rose admitted. “It’s yours.”

“But,” John stammered. “It can’t be! I never-you told me it belonged to your father!”

“Look I’m sorry!” Rose recoiled from him, wincing guiltily. “It belongs to the Doctor. He asked me to keep it safe. So I _did_.”

“The Doctor?” John pressed incredulously. “The traveller from my dreams? That _mad_ man?”

“ _Yes_.” Rose said angrily. How many times would she have to say it before he started believing her.

John considered the idea and then slowly, comprehension dawned, “They called me that in the village.” He looked dazed at the realisation. “They called me ‘the Doctor’.”

“ _Yes_.” Rose said through gritted teeth. “Because that’s who you are.”

“But...but I’m _not_ him!” John cried. “I’m John Smith! That’s all I want to be! How can this Doctor be real?” John hands flew to his chest, frantically feeling for a heartbeat. “He has two hearts. I’ve only got one! See?”

He invited her to feel but Rose merely shook her head.

“That’s because he _changed himself_ ,” she explained quietly. “He changed into a human to keep himself safe.”

“No, but I remember!” John was shaking his head vehemently. “I remember my childhood! My-my schooling, my family. Meeting you! Our courtship Rose, all of it and-and the day we were married. _Everything._ ” he gazed beseechingly at her. “Don’t you?”

“Fake memories,” Rose said dully before holding up her left hand. “Fake wedding rings too.”

“But-but...” he stammered, reaching for the ring on his own finger, obviously still struggling to wrap his brain around this startling revelation. He dropped his voice down to a whisper and shot a sideways glance at Tim before continuing. “I remember our wedding night. I remember you came to me...”

_Come closer._

They all stiffened and stared down at the watch.

“Can you hear it?” Timothy whispered.

_Closer. Closer._

John carefully took the watch up again and paced the floor slowly, mouth open.

“It’s whispering to me,” he said, voice hushed as he slowly moved across the room. “Like...like he’s...sleeping.”

Watching John with the watch, cradling it in both hands like some precious jewel, Rose’s chest expanded until she felt she might burst. Holding the air in for as long as she could, she felt like she was about to rupture something from the tension.

And then Timothy spoke.

“Why did it speak to me?” he asked tentatively.

“Oh, low-level telepathic field.” John said and Rose let out her breath in a short gasp. This wasn’t John speaking – the Doctor was speaking _through_ him. “You were born with it. Just an extra synaptic engram causing-” he stopped abruptly and took a sharp breath, John’s voice wobbling with fear as he asked, “What was...?”

“That was him,” Rose told him, her voice trembling too. “That was the Doctor. He sort of...leaks through. Sometimes.”

John abruptly threw the watch onto the table and backed away from it. The clatter of it against the wood made Rose jump but Timothy leapt forward, face creasing.

“Don’t!” he said, upset. “It told me to find you. It wants to be held.”

“Just how long have you had it for?” Rose demanded as the boy picked up the time piece in his hands, reverently, familiarly.

Timothy looked somewhat abashed. “Just today.”

“So what, you just nicked off with it because it spoke to you?” Rose demanded. “You never thought you should’ve left it alone? Talking watches? Not exactly normal is it?”

“Well,” Timothy said, abashed. “I took it without really thinking. And then...I didn’t want to bring it back. I was...” his eyes flickered, almost imperceptively over to John before he swallowed. “Too afraid.”

Rose’s brow puckered. “Afraid of what?” she asked and Timothy snuck a look at John again, his eyes dark and wide.

“The Doctor.” He said.

Rose was gobsmacked. She had thought many things of the Doctor, but she couldn’t imagine being truly frightened of him. “Why would you be scared of him?” she asked, bemused.

“Because...I’ve seen him.” Timothy admitted and he looked both terrified and awed at the same time, his eyes alight with a fervent glow and his voice hushed. “He’s like...fire and ice and rage. He’s like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun...”

“Stop it,” John whispered, terrified.

“He’s ancient and forever,” Timothy continued breathlessly, refusing to yield. “He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe!”

“Stop!” John hissed. “I said stop it.”

“And...he’s wonderful.” Timothy finished with a small smile before turning to Rose sombrely. “I’ve seen you too you know – through his eyes. Glowing with the light of time itself. You had the whole universe at your command and whatever you desired it granted you. The _Bad Wolf_.”

Rose felt the hairs on her arms lift at his words and she shivered, just as there was the sound of an explosion outside. All three of them jumped and flocked to the window where they could see giant fireballs scorching the nearby village.

“They’re destroying it!” Rose said aghast.

“They’re trying to bring you out of hiding,” Timothy observed, his face pale. John was even paler, his freckles standing out in sharp relief in the pale light when the boy turned to look up at him. “You have to do something.”

“Me?” John backpedalled the moment he realised who the boy was talking to, hands held out defensively and voice rising to a shriek. “But what can I do? I’m just a history teacher! I’m not even that – I’m-I’m nothing! I’m a story!”

He let loose a sob that he quickly stifled but Rose knew him well enough to see that he was barely holding himself together. He looked like a man whose reality had just been shattered (which of course he was) and he was so close to tipping over the edge that if she didn’t calm him down now he was going to lose it completely and then he wouldn’t be any use to anyone.

“But you’re not just a history teacher John!” she appealed to him. “Cos somewhere in there, deep down, you’re still the Doctor. And he’s the most amazing, _brilliant_ man I’ve ever met.”

She looked up at him intensely, willing him to understand. Instead of fronting up as she had hoped though, John just looked at her – like she was some sort of stranger.

“You love him,” he realised quietly and Rose, who had never been good at schooling her face, couldn’t help the look of longing that bubbled up at John’s words. A look of horrified realisation swelled and budded on his face in return. “All along you loved him and not me!”

“No hang on!” Rose protested, reaching for him. “That’s not...”

“I still look like him don’t I?” John continued wretchedly, dodging her. “Were you pretending all along? Pretending I was him?”

“Of course I wasn’t!” Rose said, pleading as she reached out to him. Yet again he evaded her. “John you’ve gotta believe me...”

“Why should I when you’ve been lying to me this whole time!” John cried and although she flinched at the ugly truth of his words, Rose still rounded back on him angrily.

“Because I was trying to keep you _safe_!” She yelled, her voice breaking off into a dry sob. It wouldn’t be long now until she started crying in earnest now though. She could already feel the pressure building up behind her eyes, at the back of her throat. Her heart beat frantically against her corset and John was staring at her again, staring like he’d never seen her before.

Another explosion, much closer, abruptly shook the foundations of the little cottage. “It’s getting closer,” Tim reported worriedly from the window and John took advantage of the boy’s distraction to pluck the watch from his hand.

“I’ll take this to them!” he decided. “If I give them the watch then they’ll leave and I can stay as I am!”

Rose was shocked at the sudden turn he had taken. “You can’t!” she protested.

“If they want the Doctor,” John said, breathing heavily. “Then they can have him! I’ll have no part in this!”

“Don’t you dare!” Rose threatened, snatching for the watch. “I won’t let you!”

“But if they get what they want...” John began pleadingly, cradling the timepiece safely in his hands.

“Then everyone dies.” Rose said flatly, and as she spoke the dam broke and her tears finally began to fall in earnest. “John, if the Doctor dies then the Family lives forever. They’ll kill an’ kill ‘til there’s nothing left to kill and then? They’ll go onto the next planet. And the next. And the _next_. Until there’s nothing left. No Earth, no universe, no _nothing_.”

John’s breath hitched. Tim looked pale. Rose stood there and trembled a moment, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides before she finished with a cold, flat, “So you can’t.”

It may have been cruel but at least her words had the desired effect. John broke down completely, sobbing desperately and all Rose could do was hold her arms out to him and let him fall into them.

~*~

  
Timothy left them be with a final warning about how dire the situation was. John said nothing, even after his sobs had abated and Rose had guided him to the narrow padded bench that stretched along the wall near the fireplace. They sat there, side by side and silent. Neither of them seemed to know what to say next, least of all Rose.

She knew they were wasting time, knew that the Family were destroying the village while they sat there and yet she couldn’t bring herself to move. She’d been waiting so long that now it was happening she felt like time had come to a standstill. The world outside could have been frozen and she wouldn’t have known or cared.

Looking down where John held the watch limply in one hand, she abruptly reached out to place her hand over his, only to hesitate at the last moment. Instead her fingertips alighted on the thin, bony wrist that protruded from beneath the hem of his jacket and John startled at the surprising intimacy of the caress.

“I wanted to wait ‘til after Christmas you know,” she admitted in a whisper, fingertips tracing the shape of ligaments and tendons and veins beneath the pale skin. “I wanted to give you something worth living for cos...I knew I’d be the one to take it all away.” As she spoke her fingers slipped lower, to the heel of his palm.

“Really?” John whispered and he looked so grateful, so hopeful that Rose knew that somehow, amazingly, she’d said the right thing. Smiling tentatively, she reached down to fully cover his hand and the watch with her own, then gasped out loud as a barrage of images assaulted her mind.

She saw the Christmas that would never be – _the silver comb shining in her hair as she presented John with a book and he accepted the token with a soft kiss of thanks. His long-fingered hand pressing against her swollen belly, eyes bright as he read stories from his journal to their unborn child. Riding in a car, a picnic basket nestled in the backseat between the children – laughing. The shouts and screams of youngsters playing behind the trees in the clearing they’d chosen..._

_And then a fireplace surrounded with books and the two of them curled up like cats, a small child crumpled contentedly in his arms. **Grandchild** she thought, unbidden when she saw the deep set lines around his eyes and the salt and pepper of his hair. Seeing her watching him, John extricated a hand curled painfully with arthritis and reached for her. Rose met him halfway, her fingers just as crooked, but somehow still sliding easily into place._

_Their hands still fitted together perfectly..._

“Did you see?” John gasped as the images stopped, his eyes bright with tears. Rose however, felt nothing but sadness.

“Yeah. I saw.” She smiled tenuously at him and John’s face slowly fell back into melancholy. “Maybe he can see it? You know – what could’ve been.”

“What cannot be,” John corrected her softly and Rose eyed him with surprise. “I could stay,” he confessed. “We could run away from here and wait them out.” He paused here and drew his fingers over the watch. “But we both know that isn’t what is meant to be. Don’t we?”

Rose said nothing, too overcome and too much in shock and it was all just _too much_. John carefully gathered her into his arms and kissed her forehead, rocking a little as he held her.

“Thank you.” He murmured and Rose squeezed her eyes shut against her tears.

“For what?” she hiccupped finally.

“For making me better,” he whispered against her ear, his arms readjusting around her the better to hold her to him before releasing her enough to look her in the eye. “For wanting me to stay. But I can’t any longer. I can’t let anyone else get hurt. I can’t let _you_ get hurt.”

“John...” Rose began but he quickly interrupted her.

“Oh Rose. Rose, can’t you see why? Can’t you understand?” John brushed her hair back tenderly as he spoke so that he could cup her face without any obstructions. “I’m just a history teacher. I can’t save anyone from those... _creatures_. I can’t keep you safe-” he paused to brush a kiss over her forehead and just breathe her in. “ _I_ can’t. But the Doctor _can_.”

Rose nodded and gave a quiet sob. She knew that he was right. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

“But you’re not just a history teacher,” she choked. “You’re brilliant!”

“But that’s all down to him isn’t it?” John said sadly, his voice resigned. “Everything I am came from him.”

“Everything?” Rose laughed ruefully as John cupped her face again and then kissed her softly.

“I love you,” he whispered, breath trembling against her lips. “Whatever happens, you have to know that I loved you, and it was _real_.”

“Yeah,” she returned, voice just as shaky. “Yeah I know. Me too.”

And then he kissed her, long and longingly and Rose poured as much of herself into the kiss as she could, knowing beyond all doubt that this would be her last chance to show him.

“Rose.” John whispered against her lips, a tender hand against her cheek, stroking her hair. “Oh my Rose...”

She held his hand close to her cheek, lip trembling uncontrollably, and then kissed him again. “Don’t go.” She begged.

John turned his hand in hers to twine their fingers. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. Swallowed. “You know I must.”

Drawing himself up, John readjusted himself where he sat and Rose held his hand a moment longer as he considered the fob watch. With a deft flick of his thumb, the lid opened and the face glowed with an otherworldly light. Rose gripped his hand tighter as tendrils of gold unfurled towards him and he almost seemed to breathe them in.

And then at the last moment he turned to her, his face awash with golden light and Rose saw that he was crying.

“I don’t want to go!” he blurted, his hand clutching hers with all the desperation of a dying man.

Her heart broke for him so completely in that moment that she felt it almost as a physical manifestation. But it was too late for him – far too late. Barely had he finished speaking when the light dissipated and he let out a pained gasp, eyes slamming shut and the glow faded away entirely.

The silence that followed was finally punctuated by a pained groan from between clenched teeth as his body was wracked by several painful looking spasms. His hand gripped hers tighter with each one but Rose did nothing, said nothing. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Not even as he stood, his hand slipping from hers. He shut the watch again with a resounding click and then opened his eyes, tears still wet on his cheeks and jaw tense.

He didn’t say a word to her, didn’t look at her, merely stumbled to the door and when he reached it he paused for a moment with his head bowed and a hand on the frame to steady himself before stepping out into the night.

And once John Smith was gone, truly gone, Rose buried her face in her hands and sobbed.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the fans of AoBH,
> 
> I am truly, _truly_ sorry for not getting this chapter out sooner but this story has turned out to be even LONGER than I thought it would be and I've been agonising over the end of it for several months now (damn my OCD!) because so many people have invested so much time in this fic (a fact that continues to humble and amaze me) and I don't now want to rush the end and do a half arsed job because you all deserve so much more! ( _So much more...!_ )
> 
> So thank you for your amazing and ongoing patience (and the gentle, ongoing digs at me on totally unrelated journal posts to write more of this XD). You guys are all so incredible and I've been enjoying all of your comments so very much. This whole fic has been a massive labour of love and I'm going to be very sad when it's all over and posted :( but in the meantime, have a new chapter (FINALLY) of The Art of Being Human.
> 
> xx sapph

  
**This chapter is dedicated to Missy the cat, whose recent and untimely death reminded me exactly what grieving felt like.**

_Previously...  
_

__

__

“Rose.” John whispered against her lips, a tender hand against her cheek, stroking her hair. “Oh my Rose...”

She held his hand close to her cheek, lip trembling uncontrollably, and then kissed him again. “Don’t go.” She begged.

John turned his hand in hers to twine their fingers. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. Swallowed. “You know I must.”

Drawing himself up, John readjusted himself where he sat and Rose held his hand a moment longer as he considered the fob watch. With a deft flick of his thumb, the lid opened and the face glowed with an otherworldly light. Rose gripped his hand tighter as tendrils of gold unfurled towards him and he almost seemed to breathe them in.

And then at the last moment he turned to her, his face awash with golden light and Rose saw that he was crying.

“I don’t want to go!” he blurted, his hand clutching hers with all the desperation of a dying man.

Her heart broke for him so completely in that moment that she felt it almost as a physical manifestation. But it was too late for him – far too late. Barely had he finished speaking when the light dissipated and he let out a pained gasp, eyes slamming shut and the glow faded away entirely.

The silence that followed was finally punctuated by a pained groan from between clenched teeth as his body was wracked by several painful looking spasms. His hand gripped hers tighter with each one but Rose did nothing, said nothing. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Not even as he stood, his hand slipping from hers. He shut the watch again with a resounding click and then opened his eyes, tears still wet on his cheeks and jaw tense.

He didn’t say a word to her, didn’t look at her, merely stumbled to the door and when he reached it he paused for a moment with his head bowed and a hand on the frame to steady himself before stepping out into the night.

_And once John Smith was gone, truly gone, Rose buried her face in her hands and sobbed._

~*~

  
It wasn’t far past dawn when the door to the cottage creaked open and Rose was startled out of a restless doze by the arrival of a pinstriped suit and achingly familiar tan overcoat all topped off with a cloud of unruly brown hair. She said nothing, too jolted by his sudden appearance and her own rude awakening. For his part the Doctor paused in the doorway only a moment before coming inside properly, gently shutting the door behind him and coming to stand – just so – by the dining table

He put his hands into his coat pockets when he reached it and Rose took in a sharp breath. The gesture, the stance – everything about him was so achingly _Doctor_. But his silence was unnervingly out of character. Normally he would have rattled off half a monologue by now, or at least asked her if she was alright. Not that she could talk. Under normal circumstances she would have thrown herself into his arms by now for a celebratory hug. Instead, Rose stayed frozen where she sat, fingers twisting around each other in her lap.

“Is it...” she cleared her throat when her voice rasped, then tried again. “Is it all over?”

“It’s over,” he confirmed and she felt a rush of emotion at the sound of his voice after so long – the Doctor. Not John, her John. “I took care of the Family. They won’t be bothering us again.”

“What’d you...?”

“I took care of them,” he repeated, a little sharper. Rose stiffened and her eyes flew back to where her hands were busily strangling each other in her lap. She was still wearing her dress from the night before and the fake wedding ring. It was odd, to still be Rose Smith with the Doctor standing in the room with her. Like something out of a dream.

“What d’you...I mean, d’you...d’you...um...” her sentence stumbled to an ungainly halt and before she realised he’d even moved the Doctor was beside her, his hand alighting cool and unfamiliar on her shoulder. Rose couldn’t stop herself from flinching slightly at his touch but his grip merely became firmer, grounding her and bringing her back to her question.

“Rose?” he pressed softly, bending a little to peer at her. She ducked her head even lower in response.

“How much do you remember?” she asked in a tiny voice, biting down hard on her lower lip to stop herself from bursting out into sobs. Tears trembled over the edge of her lower lids, threatening to spill into her lap. “Do you remember being John, or...?”

“A bit.” the Doctor admitted, barely pausing before continuing with, “Wellll I say a bit, I mean most of it. Not clearly mind, it’s all a bit fuzzy around the edges but...bit like remembering a dream really I suppose. Not that I-well.” he stopped abruptly, his hand gesticulating on a moment longer before falling limply to his side. “You know. Sleep. Much. Or dream.”

Rose nodded in understanding. “A dream.” she echoed.

“‘No more yielding than a dream’.” The Doctor said quixotically, hand alighting back on her shoulder. Rose shivered, both with the chill of his skin and also with the knowledge that he knew – he _remembered_. Everything.

“M’sorry,” she choked out suddenly, twisting the wedding band around her finger as she finally began to cry in earnest. “For...you know. With him.”

She glanced up to gauge his reaction but the Doctor’s face was inscrutable and he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. “You did what you had to. To keep me safe.” He added. But even though his voice was quiet and mild and indifferent Rose felt worse than if he’d reacted with anger or disgust. “To keep up the...the pretence of...”

“Yeah.” she interrupted him shortly, swallowing back her remaining sobs. “Yeah.”

She didn’t dare tell him that by the end she hadn’t been pretending at all.

“Well come on then,” the Doctor said, his voice still uncharacteristically quiet. His hand hovered at the small of her back as she stood, the whalebone in her corset creaking ominously. Silently they made their way out of the cottage, his hand still lingering as he gently closed the door behind them. “Best get back to the TARDIS before someone comes looking for us.”

“What about all our stuff back at the school?” Rose sniffed, wiping tears away with the heels of her palms.

“Doesn’t matter.” the Doctor said dismissively. “The TARDIS will replace whatever you need. Come on.”

He strode on ahead but Rose stopped short, feeling like she’d just been sucker-punched right in the gut. She was thinking about all of John’s sketches. Her writing set. The silver hair comb he’d bought as an early Christmas present for her. The detritus of a life unlived and now left behind.

How was the TARDIS supposed to replace _them_?

“Rose?”

She refocused on the path ahead and saw the Doctor waiting for her, a half dozen steps away.

“Coming?” he asked, holding out a long, thin hand towards her.

Rose hesitated only a moment longer before she stepped forward to catch him up. As she came alongside, Rose hesitantly took his outstretched hand and his fingers tightened immediately; tugging lightly but impatiently, ready to move on.

“Let’s go.” he said calmly. His eyes were bright with promises and his first smile (as himself) in months touched the corners of his mouth with endearing crookedness.

Rose nodded and offered him a small smile in return but she couldn’t quite bring herself to squeeze his hand back as he led her to the TARDIS.

~*~

  
Timothy Lattimer barely managed to catch up with them before they left. Having just finished slogging up the hill, Rose was too exhausted to even argue against the kid’s sudden epiphany that he should suck it up and prepare himself for the impending war. The Doctor, as usual, had enough words for both of them anyway.

“Brave words,” he told the boy approvingly. “Not that I like the thought of you fighting...” averting his gaze for a moment, he sniffed abruptly and turned back with something close to cheer on his face. “Still. You’re a braver man than I am.”

“I doubt that.” Timothy said uneasily before turning his attention to Rose, waiting patiently until she met his gaze before speaking. “Rose. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.” His dark eyes were sad, and older than they had any right to be. “I wish there’d been another way.”

Rose nodded and then, feeling very brave herself, she reached out to him. “Nah,” she said lightly as she hugged him. “You were right. My head was too stupid to do what I was supposed to...” Pulling back abruptly before she started blubbing all over him, she offered him a quick, grateful smile. “Anyway! Thanks for helping me do right yeah?”

Timothy nodded, smiled, and then watched silently as the two of them clambered inside the TARDIS and disappeared forever.

“You alright?” the Doctor asked with a surprising amount of gentleness once they were spinning safely in the Vortex. He’d been obviously worried about her all the way to the TARDIS, even offering to piggyback her up the steeper hills so she wouldn’t have to climb them. But Rose wasn’t used to be being fussed over by anyone, least of all the Doctor, so she waved off his concern with as much glibness as she could muster.

“M’fine.” She smiled tiredly and then hesitantly countered with, “You?”

He managed a thin smile. “Always. S’pose you’ll need a hand getting out of...” he gestured towards her. “All that then?”

Rose glanced down at her outfit in dismay, only just remembering how many layers of underthings she had to dispense of before she could even _think_ about showering or sleeping. The thought alone made her want to cry with frustration. “God. Can’t I just cut myself out of it?” she despaired, already tugging at the neckline.

“And ruin a perfectly good dress? And corset?” the Doctor spent a moment looking mortified before gesturing for her to turn around. A moment later she felt a soft nudge in her lower back and a firm command of, “Wardrobe. _Now_.”

Rose was so tired she simply allowed herself to be steered to their destination and once there she didn’t protest when the Doctor deftly set to the row of buttons at her back – the ones that John had done up for her the night before because she couldn’t reach. Once that was done the dress was easy enough to dispose of, but getting the corset unlaced was another story altogether.

“Stupid thing.” she tried for a devil-may-care laugh but was so exhausted that it turned into more of a hysterical cackle. “Can’t believe I wore ‘em so long!”

“The things we do...” the Doctor mumbled in agreement, his long fingers fumbling at her back and then tugging experimentally at the stiffly boned garment. “That enough?”

“Maybe.” Rose wriggled and pulled and then wriggled some more. It was still a little tight across her hips but with a bit of help and an extra set of hands she might be able to get it off without having to loosen it anymore. “Can you try pulling it from the bottom? If you pull...I push...”

At her words the Doctor’s hands obediently moved to her hips and Rose, quite suddenly, forgot how to breathe.

She stood there frozen, the cool touch of breath against the back of her neck and the pressure of his hands through the thin fabric of her drawers. After a moment her lungs started working again and her respiration went from non-existent to shallow and uneven. But then the Doctor grasped the hem of her corset and began tugging it about – jerking it really – to try and get it over her hips.

Rose fought down a wave of crushing disappointment.

Of course he wasn’t teasing her. He was just helping her to get out of this stupid thing and here she was expecting him to start...well. She’d grown too used to John, she chastised herself. She couldn’t expect the same from the Doctor – he probably didn’t even _want_ her like that or he’d have said something when she’d apologised for...

She shook her head slightly to dispel the thought and then startled when the Doctor leant over her shoulder to address her. “Reckon you can take over from here?” his voice was pointed and Rose, embarrassed, realised that he had tugged the worst of it down over her hips without her even lifting a finger.

“Yeah.” she managed to stutter as he made his way out. “Thanks. Sorry.”

As much as she had appreciated his help, Rose was glad for the solitude as she peeled off the remaining layers of her alter ego and (after a brief wash) replaced them with her customary jeans and t-shirt instead – helpfully laid out by the TARDIS. With her face made up for the first time in months and her hair brushed out of the elaborate up-do she’d worn the night before, Rose almost felt like herself again.

Indeed, one last look over in the mirror revealed that the only thing left that didn’t belong was the silver wedding band, still resting innocuously on her left hand. She quickly slid it off and, on a whim, put it on the chain she wore around her neck – right next to her TARDIS key. Finally content, she straightened her clothes, smudged her eyeliner a little more and set off to find the Doctor. Not a difficult task really, all things considered. He’d obviously missed the TARDIS and was busily reacquainting himself with his time ship through the ancient art of tinkering and talking.

“There y’are old girl,” he was crooning from beneath the console when she came in. “Does that feel better? Eh? Oh I bet it does...”

“D’you two wanna be alone?” Rose offered dryly and a moment later the Doctor was scrambling out from underneath the console to greet her, accidentally banging his head rather badly on the way out in his haste.

“Gngh!” He managed through gritted teeth as he staggered upright, the heel of his palm flying to his forehead. “ _Blimey_ that hurt!”

Rose stepped forward in concern, instantly going into nurse-mode. “Let me see.”

The Doctor bowed his head obediently enough but it didn’t take two seconds before he began fidgeting, eyes darting around the console room and his head inevitably following. “Hold still would you?” Rose said irritably, all but shoving his head back to where she wanted it. “You’re more fidgety than John wa-was.”

They both froze at the same time, Rose with her hands in his hair and he in the act of swinging his arms about like the hands off a deranged clock face. After a pregnant pause, she shut her mouth and resumed her examination as if she hadn’t said anything at all. The Doctor meanwhile, shoved his hands so deeply into his trouser pockets it was like he was trying to root himself to the floor.

Ignoring his overly theatrical winces, Rose tilted his head forward again and gently pushed his hair back so that she could examine where he’d bumped himself. Luckily the skin hadn’t even broken and she knew that he would heal from such a minor knock much quicker than a human would. It probably wouldn’t even bruise.

It was then, as she sighed her relief, that she was overwhelmed by the dizzying scent of him – all time and space dust and _ohgodhairgel_. It was such a departure from the mixture of aftershave and tea leaves that John had always seemed to carry with him. The dust was a constant she wouldn’t have expected them to share though...

“S’fine!” she said, much too loudly, and then winced. Not quite able to bring herself to take her hands away just yet, she set to carefully rearranging the section of hair she had disturbed during her examination with matter of fact intent. “Probably won’t even bruise.”

“You’ve picked up a few new tricks haven’t you?” the Doctor said, his tone admiring.

“S’pose so.” Rose mumbled, pleased but mostly embarrassed, before hastily tipping his chin back up to its rightful place. It was only then that she caught his gaze properly for the first time since he’d changed back, and she was struck dumb by the look in his eyes. It was only there for a moment, and the second she moved to capture the expression between her hands it flickered and was gone.

Feebly, she dropped her hands to his lapels, but despite the Doctor’s now guarded appearance she couldn’t help but ask the burning question.

“Is he still in there?” she wondered aloud, morbidly curious. “John?”

The Doctor looked surprised. “Why would you think that?” he asked and Rose immediately felt stupid for suggesting it in the first place.

“Dunno,” she said evasively, her hands faltering and falling away from him only to burrow into her jean pockets. “Just wondering. I mean, some of him must’ve come from you. Right?”

“Yes. Well. I’m sure he’s still...in here.” The Doctor gestured vaguely to himself and then began to pace his way around the console, surreptitiously mussing his hair back to the way he liked it. “You know. Somewhere. So! You look ready for an adventure – where to first? Or did you want to go and see your mum?”

The request was innocent enough, and after a hard adventure he had often given her the option to go home for a quick visit. She normally took him up on the offer without question. Now however, Rose felt her insides go cold, like a wash of ice chips had slid down her oesophagus and come to rest in her belly.

“No,” she blurted and he actually stopped and looked at her with real concern. “I mean,” she backtracked, trying not to show how terrified she was. “I can see mum anytime. Or Earth. I’d rather go somewhere else.”

The Doctor, seemingly satisfied with this, began rattling off names and places. Rose crossed her arms around the ice in her gut as she tailed him, worry still twisting her intestines into loops and knots.

The truth of it was that the nonchalance of his offer to take her home had sparked off an instant, terrified suspicion that if he took her home he might just land on the Estate, tip her out and fly off. After the way she’d behaved with John she wouldn’t blame him. And it was obvious he was tense – for all of his bravado she could plainly see the strain around his mouth and across his shoulders...

But if he was going to pretend that everything was fine then she could too. If it meant that she got to stay with him a little longer then she wasn’t going to mess things up if she could help it. Well, at least no more than she already had. Pulling herself up onto the jump seat, Rose stayed silent as the Doctor chattered his way through another dozen sights they could go and see before...

“ _Oh_!” he spun towards her and exclaimed so loudly that Rose nearly fell off her perch in alarm. “I’ve just thought of the _best_ place to go!”

He attacked the console with vigour and after landing the TARDIS with the familiar grind-creak- _dong_ he invited her to join him with a gallant sweep of his arm. “Shall we?” he smiled and she smiled back with as much enthusiasm as she could muster (which admittedly was not much between her bone aching weariness and the awful hollow sensation that had settled in her belly).

To her credit, Rose didn’t even bat an eyelid when the Doctor grasped her hand and pulled her down from the jump seat, bounding to the door with her in tow.

“Ready?” he beamed at her, his hand on the doorknob and Rose willed that old familiar spark to flare up in her, the excitement bubbling up inside as she prepared to share something new and spectacular with this fantastic, alien man.

To her mixed confusion and consternation, it didn’t come.

Once again, the Doctor’s expression flickered. And once again, before Rose could catalogue it, his usual manic grin burst onto his face full force and he threw open the door...

And the two of them stepped out into the middle of a political uprising on a planet two galaxies and a full three hundred thousand years out of the time period he’d been aiming for.

~*~

  
She made excuses for her behaviour of course – they both did. She was tired, she’d been through so much in the last few days, she hadn’t slept well... To try and help, the Doctor took her to a planet where they used devices called ‘Dream Pods’ to coax insomniacs into a controlled slumber.

After they’d stopped a crazy scientist from doing unauthorised experiments on his patients using the devices, Rose was given a free session under the watchful eye of the Doctor and she slept dreamlessly for close to eighteen hours. She woke feeling utterly refreshed and all but skipped off onto her next adventure with the Doctor, her tiredness completely gone.

The hollow feeling however, lingered, and it wasn’t until she fell asleep naturally for the first time that Rose began to realise why.

~*~

  
_Her eyes opened to a familiar roof above her head._

_“Oh.” She breathed, transfixed by the familiarity of the tiny spider web cracks spreading from one corner of the ceiling plaster. She’d grown intimately acquainted with that crack as she lay in bed with John over her months at Farringham. A brief shuffling sound alerted her to another presence in the room and she looked up to see the Doctor moving towards her, carefully unbuttoning his jacket._

_“This is a dream.” She realised, with some disappointment. The Doctor nodded mutely, peeling off his jacket to reveal a second one beneath it._

_Tweed._

_Rose caught her breath, watching in breathless anticipation as he slowly stripped away layers of pinstripes. For a moment John stood before her and she ached with the want to touch him. But he didn’t stop undressing, methodically removing jacket, vest, tie, shirt...until he stood fully nude before her with an alarming amount of candour._

_It was this more than anything else that convinced Rose that this was merely her subconscious playing tricks on her. John had always been quite shy with his body – even with her. He didn’t like being looked at when he was so exposed. He _had_ however liked pressing her down into the bed by covering her with his own body – just as he was doing now._

_“Rose...” he whispered, one hand on her cheek and the other at her bare hip. Her eyes fluttered shut as the latter began to drift and she reached for him without thinking, hands pressing into his slender waist, heels pressing down into the bed for more purchase._

_His skin was hot against her palms, her thighs. She gasped soundlessly at his first touch and tightened her hold, pulling him down towards her. There was a moment where he held steady and then she felt him relinquish control. The moment his body was pressed fully flush against hers he shifted his weight back so that he could tenderly rock against..._

“John!”

Her voice fell flat in the darkness and for a moment Rose was wild, unseeing and lost. As the adrenaline kick began to fade she became aware of the TARDIS, humming familiarly around her. But even the presence of the time ship couldn’t warm the cold spot beside Rose in the bed or ease the hold of the hormones that were pumping through her bloodstream.

She brought herself off quickly and desperately with her own hands (something she had never done with John) and by the time she’d finished she was crying hot, shameful tears. Miserable and missing the warmth of him beside her more than she could possibly articulate, Rose curled up in her bed and let the TARDIS sing her back to sleep.

~*~

  
The dreams didn’t stop. And they only grew more varied the longer they went on. Reading on the couch, picnics in the woods – she even had one about going to the stupid village church that had her mumbling hymns under her breath for two days straight afterwards. What she once might have called dreams quickly became recurring nightmares that she just couldn’t seem to break free from.

She was soon jolting awake up to three of four times in a night, quite often going into a panic until she could calm herself down enough to realise that she was back on the TARDIS and not in bed with John as she had grown accustomed to. And after another restless night’s sleep she would get up and go about her normal routine like nothing was wrong.

She and the Doctor travelled to far off planets and space stations and moons. They got tangled up in political uprisings and religious coups. Myths and legends, conspiracy theories, plots and plans and disasters...and afterwards she held his hand as they ran back to the TARDIS because that was what Rose Tyler did.

_That was what she did._

Until they visited Neridia.

She’d had a particularly vivid dream before they’d set out that day – another one where the Doctor had stripped out of his pinstripes only to reveal a layer of tweed underneath. The fact that it had finished with her being kissed so senseless that when he pulled away she hadn’t even been surprised that John (the Doctor?) was back in his pinstripes again hadn’t helped her concentration much during endless political briefings. It also hadn’t helped quell her sneaky suspicion that there had been more to his transformation into John than the Doctor was admitting to her.

“You know it’s a lot nicer once all the politics die down...” he was busily defending the little green planet they’d just left with a surprising amount of loyalty considering its inhabitants had originally tried to execute them both as spies. “...its sister planet though – _lovely_. Aidrien it’s called (that’s an anagram of Neridia you know) and they’re peaceful to the point of pacifism the Aidrienae...Aidrieni? Anyway! Just my kind of place – no wars or fighting, just loads of fountains and shops and museums...oh and they’ve got these spec _tac_ ular stretches of violet grass in the cities so the locals can feed their...”

“You could change back,” Rose blurted suddenly and the Doctor faltered. “If you wanted.”

“Change...back?” he echoed dumbly.

“Into John.” Rose clarified and his eyes lit up with comprehension before darkening into something else altogether.

“Technically...” he began cautiously. “I could. Yes.”

“But you won’t.”

The Doctor’s lips thinned ever so slightly. “No.”

“Didn’t think so...” Rose muttered to herself but the Doctor had turned indignant.

“Why would I want to go back to being human again?” he demanded. “Really, look at me!” he straightened his tie cockily before leaping into his new dissertation, circumnavigating the console as he did so, so that he could accentuate certain words with dial turning and button smashing. “I really _love_ this me you know – clever, skinny, lucky, freckly old Time Lordly me! I tell you what, I really, _really_ missed being me when I was him – I mean no offence human beings are pretty brilliant but seriously? _One_ heart? _Six_ senses? He was clever enough I s’pose. You know, for a human. He definitely wasn’t...Rose?”

“Shut up.” she managed, fairly shaking with anger and gripping the edge of the console with white-knuckled fingers. “Just...shut up.”

The Doctor, who had stopped and poked his head around the time rotor at her, looked honestly bewildered by her. “What? What’d I say?”

“What _didn’t_ you say!” Rose fumed. “Talking about John like he’s some sort of...of _idiot_ who didn’t deserve the...supreme... _privilege_ of bein’ you.”

She fair spat out her final words and the Doctor was shocked speechless for a long moment before he fired back at her, stuttering a little in his astonishment.

“Well that’s not really fair!” he argued, more upset than angry. “Keeping in mind that it was _my body_ he took over. I was trapped inside my own head – inside a dream, Rose! – for close to three months. _Three_ months!” He shook his head at her in a despairing sort of way. “That’s time I’ll never get back. Time I could’ve done so much more with...”

“Three months out of how many years?” Rose threw back at him. “All John _had_ was those three months!”

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer but then, with a seemingly Herculean effort, stopped himself and seemed to take a mental step backwards. If Rose hadn’t been so furious she might have been impressed with the unusual show of restraint.

Once he’d composed himself, the Doctor took a careful step forward with his hands held out. Kind of like how you might approach a snarling dog that’s just gotten loose from its choke chain. Or a small child with a loaded gun.

“Rose,” he said, very gently and calmly. “I’m sorry but...John wasn’t _real_ -”

She instantly exploded. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me that-”

The Doctor cut smoothly across her. “-and you need to understand that. He was just a construct, a creation. John Smith was a story – nothing more.”

“-he wasn’t real! How can you, of all people, decide-no he _wasn’t_ just a story! You might think...”

“You’re acting like he’s gone away on holiday or something!” the Doctor continued loudly, clearly exasperated. “He’s gone! He’s dead! No, not even dead,” he realised, almost as an afterthought. “He wasn’t even alive to begin with...”

“Don’t say that!” Rose jabbed a finger at him in warning. “Just because he was made up instead of born doesn’t make him any less real than you! It doesn’t make him any less important! He might be gone now but he _was. Real_. For three whole months a man called John Smith lived an’-an’ _loved_ and was loved back by the people around him! He had a _job_ , and a _wife_ , an’ dreams an’ hopes an’ fears an’ _everything_. So don’t you try telling me he wasn’t real!”

She punctuated her argument with a dry sob and then stormed out of the console room, leaving the Doctor spluttering behind her.

~*~

  
As with all of her moods, Rose’s anger with the Doctor didn’t last. She’d never been one to hold a grudge, especially with him, so when he appeared sometime later with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits she couldn’t help but forgive him a little. Even if he had eaten most of the biscuits before he’d made it to her room. She even apologised for yelling at him and he smiled and took that as his cue to quietly snaffle the last biscuit.

That stunt earned him a rather spectacular glare but soon enough they were both laughing about it and as Rose blew across the surface of her tea the Doctor carefully licked a fingertip so that he could pick up the crumbs from the plate.

“I’ve been thinking...about taking you to this one planet.” he offered tentatively between bouts of crumb hunting. “This whole planet just _covered_ in spas and beauty treatment...place...things. Apparently they do a brilliant mud something-or-other. You could do with a bit of R and R couldn’t you? Or – ooh what about a beach? X’horian’s always nice this time of year. Wellll, I mean, the time of year _I’ll_ take us to’ll be nice. Bondi’s pretty decent too if you’d prefer something, I dunno, closer to home? You know I haven’t been to Sydney in a few regenerations actually! What d’you think?”

He was so earnest in his wheedling that they ended up going to at least a half dozen other planets before they managed to get back to Earth, and to Bondi. To Rose’s intense surprise, it was there (of all places) that they finally encountered the disaster she had been holding her breath for. Even then it was only a Croatian tourist who got caught in a riptide – a close runner up going to the Doctor’s unfortunate combination of Australian flag board shorts with his customary Oxford and tie.

Luckily the TARDIS translation circuits allowed them to help the poor man out of his predicament before he drowned, but no amount of coaxing from Rose would see the Doctor change into something more suitable (or even just lose the tie and untuck his shirt). In the end she just gave up on him completely and simply suffered the strange looks passersby kept shooting them as they walked through the city. Especially when they reached Woolloomooloo and he spent a good five minutes loudly making up limericks about it.

As the sun slowly disappeared behind the city, the two of them found themselves slowly making their way around Circular Quay, each of them picking up a cone of ridiculously priced gelato along the way. They walked until they ran out of boardwalk and then they paused to look over at the Opera House, washed all over with orange light from the sun.

Rose grinned a little as she recalled the trouble they’d gotten into only an hour or so before just over there. The Opera House security had grimly escorted them off the premises after the Doctor scrambled halfway up the side of one of the famous sails in an effort to get a good close up look at the tiling. It turned out that Australians didn’t like people climbing all over one of their biggest national icons. Go figure. Then again, Rose reckoned that if some ‘yobbo’ (a piece of Australian slang the Doctor was still delighting over) had decided to go abseiling down Big Ben or something then she wouldn’t’ve been all that thrilled either.

“You’re a bit burnt,” the Doctor said suddenly and Rose realised that he’d been eyeing off her bare shoulders as she reminisced. She examined herself with mild interest, careful not to let her remaining ice cream drip while her attention was distracted. The skin across her shoulders was hot to the touch but she couldn’t tell how badly burned she was in the dim lighting.

When she looked up so she could ask him though, she was distracted by the discovery that the Doctor hadn’t been immune to the glaring sun that day either. She grinned, tongue pressed between her teeth and when she teasingly told him, “Well you’ve got two times as many freckles as you did this morning!” he grinned back just as wide, teeth startlingly white against his sun darkened skin.

“Do I?” he went a little cross-eyed trying to get a look at his own nose and Rose laughed, tucking herself into his side so they could finish slurping and chomping up their ice creams and watch the Opera House across the darkening water. As they stood there lights began to spring on all around them and the Doctor gingerly put his arm around her shoulders – although whether it was because of her sunburn or just plain awkwardness she couldn’t tell.

For her part it was actually the most comfortable she’d felt with him since he’d come back. They’d had their share of awkwardness – mainly due to the inability of Rose’s body to properly distinguish the difference between the Doctor and John. She had recoiled from him more than once since he’d come back, and although the Doctor was obviously confused by her sudden need for physical space he had taken her lead and restricted their physical contact only to what she felt comfortable with at any given time.

It was a maddening dance made all the more awkward by his obvious and ongoing concern for her wellbeing. He was still asking her, intermittently, if she was alright but Rose wasn’t sure if he was being completely sincere or just asking out of force of habit. Either way she was always quick to assure him that she was fine, still terrified that he would drop her off at home if she admitted how she really felt.

Right now though, between the days adventures, their easy banter and that cosy spot in his side where she seemed to fit perfectly, Rose couldn’t help but feel content as she crunched up the bottom of her waffle cone and then began working the crumbs of it out of her molars with the tip of her tongue.

It was familiar, it was them. It was...

“S’lovely.” Rose whispered, leaning her head back against his shoulder with a small sigh.

“Knew you’d like it!” the Doctor said, somewhat smugly, before shifting almost nervously against her. “Rose?”

“Mmmn?” she rolled her neck so she could look up at him and was completely struck by the expression on his face – like he was trying to figure her out, like he was holding back from saying (or doing) well...something.

Hope blossomed in her chest and she stood up straighter, suddenly and quite irrationally wanting to kiss the ever living daylights out of him, propriety and boundaries be damned. Surely she wasn’t imaging the fact that he looked just like she felt, looked like he was thinking _exactly_ the same thing that she was?

He looked just like John always had before he kissed her.

“Rose...” he said again and her eyes dropped to his mouth as his lips rolled around her name. She watched them, watched as his tongue curled behind his teeth and then withdrew again. Her pulse already quickening (and oh who _cared_ anymore. She was going to bloody well kiss him) Rose rolled her weight forward onto the balls of her feet and was just about to rise up on tiptoe when...

The Doctor beamed so brilliantly that it was like a star bursting in front of her nose.

Rose blinked, jerking back a little in shock as his smile grew sheepish and he gave a nervous little chuckle. “You know I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

For a desperate millisecond, she thought he might still kiss her, but then he folded her up into an embrace and squeezed so tight that her feet lifted off the ground. She could feel him smiling against her temple, could feel his gratefulness in the press of his body against hers.

But nothing else.

“What?” she squeaked, so dazed she barely remembered to hug him back.

“Thank you.” he repeated, his voice a little breathy in her ear. He set her back on her feet after a moment but didn’t release his hold on her. In fact he seemed to be snuggling in even _closer_... “For looking after me when I was human.”

The penny dropped. Rose stilled. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice.

“I know it can’t’ve been easy for you,” he continued, mumbling against her cheek. “Having to pretend to be something you’re not – especially so far out of your time like you were. And it’s not like it’s in your nature to lie and keep secrets, you’re far too honest for that. But I never would’ve asked unless I had to – unless I had no other choice. You know that don’t you?”

Rose’s throat felt strangely constricted as she rasped out a, “Yeah.” His grip was just that little bit too tight across her sunburnt shoulders and she gave him one final squeeze before relaxing her hold and wriggling a little, hoping he would get the hint. Thankfully he did and once she was free of his embrace, she crammed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “I know. S’fine yeah?”

The two of them fell silent, the Doctor still clutching the remaining crumbs of his waffle cone and Rose toeing the ground with her cheap sandals.

“Well,” he said finally, a little perplexed by her reaction but obviously hopeful. “Back to the TARDIS then? We’ve got a fair walk...”

He tried for a smile but Rose merely nodded. Most of the long, long walk back was taken in uncomfortable silence, Rose deliberately pushing her hands deeper into her short pockets so that when the Doctor reached for her hand it merely skimmed her wrist and then fell dejectedly away.

She felt horrible for rejecting him but Rose couldn’t help but feel a little bit upset that he clearly had no idea as to why she’d been so off lately. And in true Doctor fashion he didn’t even try getting to the bottom of it either. Obviously hoping everything would all blow over now that he’d apologised for what he thought was wrong, he attacked the console the minute they stepped in, flipping buttons and levers and babbling his head off about where they should go next.

At least he’d been right about one thing though, Rose thought as she followed him grimly into the console room. If she was one thing, Rose Tyler was honest. And maybe, she thought, it was about time she used that to her advantage and consequences be damned.

“I wasn’t pretending.” she blurted right into the middle of his ramble. The Doctor merely looked at her blankly.

“Wasn’t-?” he trailed off, one hand swinging uselessly where it had been about to grasp the monitor and swing it towards him.

“You said I was pretending,” she reminded him. “Back in 1913. I mean, yeah at first I probably was but...” lowering her head briefly she bit her lip and then just blurted it all out. “I really did feel something for John. I...l-loved him. In the end. Not that I didn’t want you to come back!” she added hastily. “Cos I did, I just...I didn’t want him to...”

She trailed off, lost, but to her surprise the Doctor was nodding thoughtfully. God, did he actually understand? Did he already _know_? For a moment his jaw worked from side to side as though he were literally chewing over his next words and then he swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said with finality, but then he began to stammer and Rose’s heart sank. “That’s...fine. I guess. I mean, I’m fine with you...” he paused, waving a hand at her vaguely. “You know.”

“You’re not angry?” she said, more than a little incredulous. “That I had feelings for him?”

The Doctor’s face scrunched. “Should I be?”

That stung a little (of _course_ he bloody well should be) but Rose was not deterred. “Well yeah,” she continued on. “Cos I was gonna let him stay! I wasn’t even gonna open the watch – least ‘til after Christmas. I might’ve let him stay forever given half a chance...”

The Doctor didn’t even look surprised by her admission and was quick to dismiss it. “You wouldn’t’ve,” he said easily. “You’re a woman of your word whether you like it or not. And you know as well as I do that eventually you would’ve done the right thing and let me out.”

He smiled at her and Rose had just begun to protest again when he interrupted her smoothly. “And in any case the watch was set on a timed release. Once the three months were up it would’ve opened itself anyway. So! No harm done. Eh?”

Rose felt herself deflate slightly. So even if she’d tried to keep John around for Christmas...

“Yeah.” She said flatly.

“Yes.” The Doctor said, swinging his arms awkwardly. “Right. Well.” Abruptly he made as if to go in for a hug and then changed his mind and crossed his arms instead. “So you weren’t angry that I hadn’t said thank you?”

Rose shook her head at him in disbelief. “Why would you even think that?”

“Oh I just thought that might’ve been why...you were...” the Doctor mumbled, trailing off vaguely though she managed to catch a few scattered words, “drawing...oblique comparisons...thought maybe...doesn’t _really_ matter what... _now_ I obviously know why...”

“I wasn’t expecting you to say _thank you_.” Rose mumbled once he had tapered off into something close to silence. “I thought you’d be angry at me.”

“Nothing to be angry for,” the Doctor said breezily, circling the console again. “Not really. Is there? I mean you looked after me, made sure the Family didn’t get their hands on the watch...”

“Shagged you without permission...” Rose added under her breath but he either didn’t hear her or he was just choosing to ignore her. He continued to pace around the time rotor and Rose grew impatient. “Can we go to London?” she finally asked, leaning entreatingly against the console. “So I can see my mum?”

If the Doctor was startled by the sudden shift in her conversation he didn’t show it, merely resumed his earlier mumbling in something that sounded like an agreement and several minutes later he was parking the TARDIS in its usual spot just outside her mother’s flat.

She had been putting this trip off for weeks, that nagging suspicion still in the back of her brain that the Doctor was just waiting for an opportunity to toss her out back home. But she was reaching the end of her tether now, so far gone that she didn’t even care if he did leave her at home so long as she got to see her mum and actually _talk_ to someone properly about everything that had happened.

It was a relief to feel the TARDIS land on familiar soil – or concrete as it were. A quick fiddle with the monitor revealed the Powell Estate in all its shabby splendour on the external camera and Rose immediately bounded towards the ramp, slightly shamed when she realised (already halfway to the door) that she should probably ask the Doctor if he wanted to accompany her.

“D’you...wanna come up too?” she asked, picking at the fraying hem of her shorts. The Doctor however was busying himself with the console in a way that was altogether too focused to be entirely earnest and when she spoke he made a great show of glancing up at her in surprise.

“Hmmn? Oh. Nahhhh.” He tried his best to sound casual but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’ve probably got loads to talk to her about. Don’t need me hanging around butting in where I’m not wanted. Besides,” his hand jumped towards his hair and he looked faintly embarrassed. “I get the feeling I might be in line for another slap after...recent events.”

“I won’t let her slap you.” Rose assured him but the Doctor remained steadfast. “You’re sure?” she pressed, just in case.

“Absolutely!” He smiled, faux cheerful before turning his back on her. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Take your time!”

Not believing his act for a second but wanting more than ever to see her mum, Rose pushed open the door of the TARDIS only to be met by a bitingly cold evening wind that instantly puckered her bared skin into gooseflesh.

“Might want to take a coat with you by the way,” the Doctor added negligently, not even looking up from the monitor. “Mine’s by the door. If you want it.”

Normally she would have been touched by the gesture, excited by the opportunity to snuggle into the divine warmth and Doctor-y smell of his overcoat. Instead, Rose just felt a wave of irritation as she bundled it off the coral strut he always threw it over. _He could’ve picked a warmer day couldn’t he?_ she thought sourly as she shucked it on.

She trudged out into the night without saying goodbye and then made her way up the stairs to her mums flat, the satin lining of the coat smooth against her sun-damaged skin. On the way she catalogued the familiar sounds of her old neighbours moving about behind closed doors. Cooking dinner or watching telly. Laughing over something inane that happened at work or school. A babies cries breaking out over an argument...

Rose sped up without even noticing, nearly tripping over the Doctor’s coat in her haste to get to her mother’s door. She was quite suddenly and irrationally desperate to get back, to get away from the TARDIS and the Doctor and just _everything_.

It had never been so easy to leave the TARDIS – to leave the Doctor – behind before. But she needed something human. Something the Doctor couldn’t give to her because he just didn’t _understand_. It was so clear to her now. Even though he had so obviously been trying to help, it just wasn’t enough.

 _He_ wasn’t enough.

She reached the door breathless and was still banging on it when Jackie opened it, resplendent in faux silk dressing gown and absently toting the TV remote.

“Rose?” she said in some surprise before glancing over her daughters shoulder and adding, “Where’s the Doctor?”

Rose’s face crumbled and Jackie, well schooled in the art of her daughter’s body language, wasted no time in pulling her into her arms and letting her fall apart. Rose gave one stubborn hiccup, then another, before finally giving in to the onslaught of tears she’d been holding in for weeks.

“Oh Rose,” Jackie said softly, beginning to rub her back in slow circles. “Oh sweetheart...”

Rose’s fingers clenched spasmodically around fistfuls of pink satin as she sobbed helplessly, her cheek pressed against the warmth and soft weight of her mother and the grief crashing down upon her in waves.

“What’s he done to you?” Jackie murmured, rocking her gently on her feet. “Oh love, what’s he done to you now?”


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With John Smith gone and the Family defeated, Rose returns to life on the TARDIS with the Doctor. But things aren’t like they were before and it seems like the Doctor might not be able to help Rose heal after the loss of John...

_“I-borrowed a bag. A bigger on the inside one. I just...couldn’t fit all my...stuff. In mine.”_

_“S’fine.”_

_“See you then Doctor.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“I’ll give you a call?”_

_“Yeah.”_

~*~

  
After a good cry and a cup of tea with her mum, Rose actually felt a lot better. Or at the very least she felt able to fill Jackie in on everything that had happened since her last phone call. Especially about how miserable she’d been in recent weeks, pretending that nothing was wrong when really she was desperately hoping that the Doctor would wake up, realise that she wasn’t okay and _fix_ it.

What it all boiled down to (and it was unfair of her she knew) was that now that the shoe was on the other foot, Rose couldn’t help but compare the Doctor to John. She kept on expecting him to break down his barriers and be physically affectionate with her again, or to sit her down in the library and regale her with a story from his journal.

She kept on waking up, expecting him to be lying next to her.

Never mind that the Doctor barely slept – she still _wanted_ it and was waiting for it. Still waiting for John to come back even though she knew – rationally – that he was gone forever. But there _had_ to be a bit of him still in the Doctor, didn’t there? People didn’t just spring fully formed out of nothingness, he _must’ve_ come from the Doctor...

With her hands wrapped around the dregs of her third cup of tea and her mind buzzing with the heavy exhaustion that only grief can bring, Rose was only half listening to her mother who was buried shoulder deep in the bathroom cabinet looking for after sun lotion.

“This Doctor of yours might be an alien,” Jackie pointed out. “But he’s still a _man_ sweetheart. And men are notoriously stupid at realising when women are upset. And why.”

“He’s tryin’,” Rose defended the Doctor without even thinking. “I know he is. I just...”

“You miss the other one,” Jackie said smoothly as she came back into the living area and Rose was rather taken aback. Rubbish at her own relationships she might have been, but her mum was right on the money with Rose’s. “Course you do. You were living with him for three months sweetheart. You can’t share your life like that with someone and not miss them when they’re gone.”

“Yeah but what if he’s not really gone?” Rose pressed on, obligingly peeling the thin straps of her tank top off her shoulders at her mother’s pointed look. “I mean, he had to come from somewhere right? The way he _felt_ about me had to come from somewhere.”

“Maybe,” Jackie said, carefully beginning to apply the cool lotion to her daughter’s raw skin. “Did you ask himself?”

“Yeah but he didn’t answer properly.” Rose scoffed. “Bloody typical.”

Still more than a little terrified at the idea of going back to the TARDIS and having to properly talk things over with the Doctor, Rose slept fitfully in her old room for the night, her sunburn and the fear of dreaming keeping her awake. In the morning, after Jackie had bullied her into toast and tea and given her a few, final pointed words of advice, she headed back down to the TARDIS, stubbornly determined to confront the Doctor – to whatever end.

There were so many things that had been in the back of her brain for weeks now that she’d refused to really think about. Her hope (and incidentally her mother’s advice to her) was that if she began to try and work through them all then maybe she could start to...move on? She guessed? Or at least come to peace with the fact that John was gone?

Pausing outside the TARDIS to fumble her key out of her pocket, Rose hoped like mad that he didn’t have the external cameras on. It took a hell of a lot of nerve to even get her key in the door, let alone open it. Her wedding band bumped cold against her palm as she pushed her way inside only to be greeted abruptly by the Doctor.

“Morning!” he said brightly, popping out from behind the console as though he’d been waiting there all night for her. Maybe he had. Rose jumped in surprise and only just stopped herself from dropping her key. “Ready to move on? Because I was thinking we could go to Jal-”

Rose took a deep breath, slung her key back around her neck and then made her way up the ramp towards him.

“I want you to do a medical exam on me.” She interrupted him loudly.

The Doctor, who was already halfway through launching them into the Vortex, looked up at her with some alarm.

“A medical exam?” he echoed as he hastily finished piloting the TARDIS, put on the handbrake and then stepped forward, sonic already in hand. “You’re not feeling ill are you?”

“No.” Rose assured him firmly, gently pushing the sonic away. “I just want a check up. Just in case.”

“In case?” the Doctor murmured. He was still dithering about with his sonic, peering into her eyes as though the answer was hiding behind them. “In case what?”

“Well...I haven’t ever spent so much time in another...time. Before.” The Doctor looked dubious but when she added, “I might’ve picked up a bug or something.” He actually let out a small guffaw.

“Oi, not impossible right?” Rose’s glare quickly drew his laughter to an end. “’Member when I got that alien flu and you couldn’t figure out how I got it?”

He looked somewhat chastened at that, and a hand leapt up to the back of his neck.

“Don’t much fancy a repeat of that,” she continued before he could speak. “And m’not gonna rely on plain old Earth doctors when I’ve got you and the TARDIS.”

The Doctor opened and closed his mouth several times, his face a strange mixing pot of emotions. There was obvious pleasure at her flattery there, but it was still overshadowed by deep concern, the crease between his eyes deepening even as he fought back a pleased smile.

His mouth twitched one final time before shutting completely, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“So,” Rose said, the strength of her voice belying the jitters in her stomach. She really was beginning to feel properly ill now at the thought of what was to come and she briefly wished she hadn’t eaten breakfast after all. “Med bay yeah?”

~*~

  
Rose already knew firsthand that the medical technology the Doctor had onboard the TARDIS was vastly superior to anything she had ever known back on Earth. Machines that could knit broken bones back together in five minutes flat, alien salves and ointments to promote healing, even sentient bandages that always got the pressure just right on a strained limb. Thankfully, it only took a few completely non invasive scans to ensure that she was completely healthy and all in one piece.

“All right?” she asked nervously once the whirring and beeping of machines had stopped.

“Yup!” the Doctor said, pausing to casually smack a monitor with the heel of his palm. A moment later, obviously satisfied with what he saw, he continued. “No bugs or viruses, nothing. Bit of a nasty sunburn...but! Otherwise you’re a bastion of perfect health – everything in perfect working order. Not that I expected anything less,” he added, proudly patting the nearest wall. “The TARDIS always takes good care of my companions, keeps their immune systems up to scratch...”

“What about...about pregnancy?” Rose managed to stutter and the Doctor’s ramble fell into a dense silence, leaving him with his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Oh.” he said finally. “I didn’t think of that.”

“You don’t think maybe we should _check_?” Rose demanded, her voice rising shrilly. The Doctor all but leapt to the computer, his clumsy fingers the only thing that revealed how flustered he truly was.

Rose lay there, twitching uncomfortably as she waited for the scan to be complete. She was pretty sure she _wasn’t_. Pregnant that is. But the minute she’d admitted to her mum that she’d slept with John a whole bunch of times without using any contraception...

“What’ve you got _that_ for?” Rose had demanded after Jackie produced a pregnancy test out of the bowels of the flat.

“Never you mind,” her mother had told her, pushing the packet onto her grimly. “Think you need it more than me though.”

“M’not pregnant mum,” Rose protested, flushing deeply and trying to return the embarrassingly pink box to her mother.

“Hundred percent sure on that are you?” Jackie asked, eyebrows raised and Rose couldn’t help but squirm. “You better check then bettern’t you? Don’t need to be off travelling like you do with a bun in the oven.”

Rose had vetoed the little stick, mostly out of embarrassment, but promised her mum that she would get the Doctor to do a proper scan for her. The thought that she might have accidentally fallen pregnant to John...she wasn’t sure whether it would be a blessing or the most horrible mess she’d ever had the stupidity to get herself into.

As the Doctor scanned her she found herself thinking back on what she had seen when she had touched the fob watch. Images of a life that she could have had with John, filled with children and grandchildren. A proper family – the kind she’d never had growing up. A big family with lots of kids all playing together...

She wondered briefly what else might have been, if that fleeting and ephemeral human life she’d had with John had been allowed to go on...and then the results were up. The Doctor gazed at them silently for an interminable moment before giving a nonchalant sort of half shrug. Rose sat up so abruptly that she nearly fell off the examination table.

“Oh my god,” she said, suddenly panicking. “I’m not...?”

“What? Oh – no!” the Doctor announced cheerfully. “No baby! Just you.”

Rose put a shaking hand over where her heart was thundering against her ribs. It wasn’t like she’d never had a pregnancy scare before, but she’d certainly never entertained the idea of...well _keeping_ a baby until now. Not that she had any idea what she would’ve done if she _had_ turned out to be...

No baby though. Good. Really it was a relief. After all of her concerns about birth control and being sent home... Abruptly she found herself blinking back tears and surreptitiously looked away so that the Doctor wouldn’t see. Whether they were born of relief or just plain ordinary grief she couldn’t honestly say. But her last, tenuous link with John had just been well and truly broken and she wasn’t entirely sure that she’d wanted to know after all.

“Looks like it was a close call though,” the Doctor mused, cutting through her thoughts. He was still peering at the screen with great interest. “Lucky you didn’t stay in 1913 any longer. Your cycle was well on its way to synchronising itself with the most dominant female.”

“Oh _great_.” Rose said faintly, remembering all too well how she and her mum always seemed to end up curled around hot water bottles at the same time each month, both grumbling over whose turn it was to boil the kettle and fetch more painkillers. “So I would’ve started getting...it...when Joan got hers then?”

“Most likely yes,” the Doctor said absently, that slight frown making a second appearance. Rose’s pulse began to gallop once again in response. “You were _very_ lucky actually, by the looks o-...blimey. You’re a bit all over the place with it aren’t you?”

“You can tell that from _one scan_?” Rose demanded only to cut herself off. “Sorry, scrap that. Course you can. Don’t suppose you know _why_ it’s like that?”

The Doctor hummed thoughtfully as he played with the readouts onscreen. “Oh just time travel. Funnily enough not having a consistent linear timeline really seems to throw human bodies out of whack. Ooh, I like that. _Whack_. Good word. Anyway, yes, hormones. _All_ over the shop. And menstrual cycles – as the case may be. For females.”

Rose stared at the Doctor, mortified beyond belief and not sure whether to be more embarrassed or indignant. Who even _said_ stuff like...like _menstrual cycle_? And when exactly had he been planning on telling her that she might experience side effects from jumping about in time and space? It might’ve been helpful back when she’d first started travelling with him and spent an inordinate amount of time terrified that something had gone seriously wrong with her once she realised that her body – normally as regular as clockwork – seemed to have stopped all womanly functions.

It was only after she’d been graced by eleven linear days (she’d tallied them) of cramps and general discomfort that she could breathe somewhat easier. Not that she’d have ever brought it up with him – she got the feeling that her first Doctor wouldn’t have exactly been comfortable chatting to her about her primitive ‘female problems’.

Then again...

“Just as well eh?” the Doctor added, grinning just a little bit too maniacally for comforts sake.

“Yeah.” Rose offered flatly, surprised by how brittle her body felt as she pushed herself off the examination table and onto her feet. “Brilliant.”

“Well now that you’ve got a clean bill of health, where do you wanna go next?” the Doctor clapped his hands and then rubbed them together, like a magician preparing for his next trick. “Cos I’ve got a list as long as my arm...”

He held a pinstriped sleeve up as evidence but Rose hastily butted in before he could get too carried away.

“Actually,” she said. “Can we sit down and have a cuppa first? Only...” The briefest look of suspicion flashed up on the Doctor’s face and Rose instantly bit off the remainder of her sentence (something along the lines of “I’d really like to have a talk to you about some stuff that’s kind of important and probably a whole lot domestic”) and replaced it with something a bit more user friendly. “...I’m still a bit...I could just really do with a cuppa. You know?”

The Doctor hesitated just a moment longer before nodding. “Right. Cup of tea. Lovely. Shall we...find the galley then?”

They were both uncharacteristically quiet as the old fashioned kettle came to the boil – whistling cheerfully. When she didn’t move to make their cups up, the Doctor poured out tea for them both instead, carefully measuring the sugar out for Rose’s and bringing a lump to her throat as she remembered John doing exactly the same thing for her when her ankle had been hurt.

When he placed the chipped mug in front of her, the Doctor paused to take in her glassy eyes and pinched features only a moment before sliding in across from her with his own cup.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and for the first time since he’d come back Rose didn’t feel anger rear up at his concern. Instead, tears begin sliding down her cheeks, splattering gently on the tabletop and into her tea. “Mind out, you’re going to make your tea all salty,” he said awkwardly, gently tugging the mug away from her and Rose let loose a somewhat hysterical laugh that she quickly choked off when she saw his eyebrows leap up his forehead. “Rose...” he leaned forward as if to reach for her hand but then seemed to think better of it and deliberately stopped himself short.

They sat there a moment, the Doctor leaning towards her and Rose leaning away. _Enough beating around the bush then_ , she decided and wiped her tears away with each hand in turn.

“It’s John.” She began. The Doctor stiffened slightly but then gave the tiniest of nods and seemed to settle himself in resignedly. “And me – mainly me. Just...tryin’ to get my head around it all. You know?”

The Doctor considered this carefully. “Right.” He said slowly. “Any bit in particular? That you’re having trouble getting your head around I mean?”

Rose gave a mirthless laugh. “What, apart from falling for a bloke who looked exactly like you?”

Across from her the Doctor sat silently, waiting for her to finish, his hands clasped together and his elbows on the table. And Rose leant forward, arms folded and staring at the back of his right hand as she blurted it all out.

“He thought I was his wife,” she said, already fighting back tears. “An’ I had to be that for him...for all that time. So I could keep you safe. Now...I miss him. An’ I keep expecting him to come back, or for you to start acting like him all of a sudden. Which isn’t fair, I know it isn’t fair, but...” she broke off, trying to control her voice a bit better and she chanced a look up at the Doctor and he was looking at her with so much sadness...

“M’sorry,” she trembled. “M’so sorry for...”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he rejoined and in a flash of movement his hand was on her arm. Rose jerked at his touch then tried to pretend that she hadn’t. The Doctor, if he noticed, said nothing. “Rose, if anyone should be apologising here it’s...it’s me.”

Rose stared at him, so nonplussed she couldn’t even muster up a response. The Doctor, seeming to understand her bewilderment gave her a small, twisted smile. “Asking me to do a check up on you was all just a pretext to make sure you weren’t pregnant. Wasn’t it?”

Rose, still speechless, nodded and the Doctor’s smile turned even grimmer with realisation.

“That’s what you’ve been upset about for all these weeks,” he murmured. “And I was just too thick to see it. I thought I was so clever. I thought I knew _exactly_...” he pulled back abruptly, took a swig of too hot tea and hissed through his teeth at the pain. Rose just watched silently from across the galley table, agog, until he worked himself up to finish.

“Because that’s what this is really about isn’t it?” the Doctor said to his mug of tea. “This is all about what he did to you. What _I_ did to you by putting you into that situation with him in the first place. And I’m sorry,” he looked miserably up at her. “I’m so sorry Rose. I never thought I’d have to worry about...some _part_ of me...forcing – _violating_ you when you clearly didn’t want...”

“ _Violating_?” Rose repeated, shocked. “You think that’s what he did to me?”

“Of course that’s what he did to you!” the Doctor snapped and Rose recoiled. Obviously realising that she was more frightened than comforted, the Doctor seemed to make a conscious effort to calm himself down and when he spoke again his voice was much softer. “Why d’you think I haven’t brought it up? I didn’t want to have to face up to the fact that I... _he_ forced himself onto you. Without your consent. And oh he was clever – manipulating you into doing what he wanted...”

“If anybody was gettin’ _violated_ it wasn’t me,” Rose protested hotly and when the Doctor went to answer her back she carried on sharply. “No, Doctor. I could’ve said _no._ I could’ve...hit him across the head with a copper or pretended I was diseased or... _anything._ I could’ve made up a million excuses but I didn’t Doctor, I let him. I _wanted_ him to.” She mumbled the final as an afterthought, heat creeping up her neck.

The Doctor flicked at an invisible mite of dust, frowning. “There’s a particular term for that kind of relationship you know.” he said, voice clipped. “Between a prisoner and their captor...”

“I don’t have Stockman’s Syndrome Doctor.” Rose said flatly, picking up her cup of tea.

“Stock _holm_.”

“Oh whatever!” Rose slammed her mug back down on the table without even taking a sip. “Look, if that’s really how you feel about what happened then how d’you think _I_ felt after the first time? I felt like-like I was-like I was-” she stopped herself at the risk of stammering anymore and then finished the sentence up in an explosion of run together words. “LikeIwasviolating _you_.”

The Doctor looked flabbergasted. “How could you even think that?”

“How could I _not_ think that?” Rose cried. “I let him do all those... _things_ to me – using your body an’ your face an’ your...” she gestured vaguely, blushing slightly as she did so. “Everything. Why d’you think I tried to hold him off so long? I thought you’d...I thought...”

A long, dense silence fell between them as he waited for her to finish. Instead, Rose took a violent swig of her tea. It was still far too hot and she blew across the surface several times before replacing it in the milky brown puddle that she had sloshed everywhere before.

“Rose?” the Doctor pressed gently but she hid behind her mug again, not able to bring herself to finish. She felt ashamed for misjudging his reaction. Of course he would have forgiven her for the part she had to play. But she also hadn’t expected him to blame himself for her transgressions either. She wasn’t sure whether to be angry at him or just resigned to his stupid martyr complex.

“I thought you might kick me out of the TARDIS.” She blurted finally and the Doctor looked nothing short of surprised. “For what I did.”

“I thought you were going to leave all by yourself.” He admitted. “For what _I_ did.”

Rose let out a short laugh, the Doctor added one of his own and for a moment the tension dissipated between them.

“I wish you’d told me that you weren’t alright,” the Doctor offered quietly. “All those times I asked...”

“How could I?” she challenged. “You don’t _talk_ about stuff like this. How was I supposed to bring it up? ‘Alright Rose?’ ‘Oh no, not really Doctor. I’m all hung up on John and wish you’d start acting more like him to help me get over him’. Yeah that would’ve gone over real well...”

“You didn’t even give me a chance!” the Doctor protested. “Rose I’ve been worried about you for _weeks_ now...”

“Yeah well maybe I wasn’t ready to talk about it,” Rose said shortly. “Maybe I needed you to figure out what was wrong without me having to spell it all out for you. Or maybe I was just worried you’d blow it off like it didn’t mean anything. You know, like you do with everything else that’s important.”

The Doctor went from quietly concerned to utterly livid in an eye blink. “When have I _ever_ blown you off over something you thought was important?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Rose retorted angrily. “Something _I_ thought was important. So you just pretend everything’s fine and hope that I’ll be the one to bring it up so you don’t have to? Or when I ask if you’re really alright with what happened with me and John and you make up a whole bunch of excuses when really...”

“I _am_ fine with what happened between you and John,” He interjected, eyebrows flying towards his hairline. “And anything you did in 1913 wasn’t your fault Rose. You were there because of me. The blame goes on me, not you.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yes it does!”

“Oh my god...I should’ve known you’d be all stupid about this...”

“ _I’m_ being stupid?” the Doctor demanded. “ _I’m_ the one who’s being stupid?”

“When you’re blaming yourself for stuff that’s not your fault then yeah!” Rose blared. “And making out like I have some sort of weird issue when I _don’t_.”

“What do you _want_ me to say?” the Doctor exploded to his feet, throwing his hands about wildly. “Do you _want_ me to be upset about what you did? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah!” Rose raged, standing as well. “I wish you were! Cause then at least I’d know that you cared!”

“Of course I care! What he did to you...”

“I don’t. _Care_ about that!” Rose bit out. “I care about the fact that you don’t seem to give a shit that I fell in love with him!”

“WHY?” The Doctor was all but tearing his hair out in frustration. His eyes were wild. He looked at his wits end with her. “Why is that even my business?!”

“Because it is! Because it _should_ be your bloody business!”

“Why should I care who you go about falling in love with!”

“Because I’m supposed to be _yours_!”

The minute the words exploded from her mouth, Rose knew that she’d made a blunder. The Doctor shut down completely, his expression, body language, everything. For one long, horrible moment, neither of them said anything. Fists clenched, chests heaving, they looked anywhere but at each other and then Rose took a deliberate step back, the legs of her chair scraping awkwardly against the grating.

“This is another one of those fights isn’t it?” she guessed bitterly, the silence crackling thin between them. “The ones where you’re too stupid to admit that you care about me. Yeah. Cos one day you’re gonna lose me and then you’re gonna be all alone again and you _just can’t take the thought of it_...”

“Rose...” the Doctor groaned, running a limp hand through his hair. “I can’t even keep up with you. One minute we’re arguing about John the next we’re on something completely unrelated...”

“It’s not though,” Rose said flatly. “Is it? Cos I reckon you really are upset that I cared about him. That I gave him something I’ve never given you.”

The Doctor was silent for a moment and when he spoke his voice was surprisingly weak. “We aren’t like that.”

“No,” Rose agreed, all the fight gone out of her now. “We’re not. And that’s how I know you’re only pretending that its okay me and John were. Like that I mean.”

His eyes said it all. The pain may have been hastily stifled and hidden away, but it was still evident as he met her gaze. He had taken the blame on himself and gone along with all of her pretences so that he didn’t have to face up to the reality of their situation. Neither the possibility of pregnancy, nor the danger that she may have fallen for John – not the fear that she might yet leave him.

Just like she had lied so that she could protect him from the one thing he hadn’t known for certain but had probably suspected – if his hopeful diagnosis of Stockholm Syndrome had been any indication. She really _had_ loved John – still loved him even now. And the Doctor with the entire universe at his disposal just couldn’t fill the cracks left in her heart.

How could he – when he wasn’t even able to mend his own?

“You know what the difference is between you an’ me?” Rose asked suddenly. “You an’ John?”

She halfway didn’t expect him to answer, but he still offered a surprisingly quiet, if curt, “What?”

“I loved him anyway.” she said simply, miserably. “I knew he was gonna die. I was gonna have to open the watch and kill him and I still loved him anyway. An’ he loved me right back,” she continued, tone turning accusing. “He loved me and he _told_ me. Not like you, Mr. start-a-sentence-and-never-finish-it...”

“That isn’t fair.” The Doctor argued back suddenly, his voice breaking. “Comparing me with...” he deliberately stopped himself short and then his gaze darkened. “How would you like it if I started comparing you to Reinette all the time? Or Sarah-Jane? Or any of my other companions for that matter?”

Rose couldn’t help but flinch at that but the Doctor sighed and his remaining anger melted away.

“Rose...” he began reasonably before stopping short and just standing there. His fists slowly loosened by his legs but he still couldn’t meet her gaze. They’d both run out of words she realised. And this was such a rare occasion for the two of them that they both stood silently for a very long time waiting for what would come next. Finally Rose shook her head, only just noticing their cups of tea going cold between them on the table.

“Take me back.” she requested softly.

The Doctor refocused his attention on her very quickly. “What?”

“Take me back.” She repeated before adding, pointedly, “ _Home_. To the Estate.”

Her words had the desired effect. From the wild flash of emotion that crossed his face and the tightening of his jaw Rose knew that she had hurt him.

“We just came from...” he began, half-heartedly.

“I don’t care,” Rose shook her head, the words fighting their way out through a throat suddenly tight with repressed sobs. “I need to go back. Cos I can’t travel with you right now. I just...” she broke off and the Doctor gazed at her with something close to desperation. After so many weeks of being terrified he would send her home, Rose was only just beginning to realise that if she had to choose between going home or staying here with him, in this painful, in-between place...

The Doctor didn’t love her. Or couldn’t. And even if he did allow himself to feel something like that for her he certainly wasn’t going to admit it – not to himself and certainly not to her. And she was still aching so much for John...it just wasn’t fair to keep on pretending that everything was okay when it so clearly wasn’t.

And if all of time and space couldn’t get her sorted out then maybe she needed to go back on the slow path again? Somewhere without the Doctor around, constantly reminding her of what she had lost when she’d lost John.

“I can’t.” She whispered, her trembling lower lip finally giving way to tears. “M’sorry. Can you please, _please_ just take me home to my mum?”

For a moment the Doctor looked truly, honestly upset and she thought that he might reach out to her. But then his face went blank and he was sweeping past her without a word, leaving her standing in the galley alone with tears streaming down her face and a hand cupped over her mouth to stifle her sobs.

~*~

  
It seemed to take her forever to collect all of her things – strewn out around the TARDIS as they were. But finally it was done and Rose lugged her bags to the console room. The Doctor was leaning against the jump seat – hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor, shoulders slumped. He must have known she had entered the room but he gave no sign to acknowledge her presence.

Rose swallowed hard.

“I-borrowed a bag.” She told him falteringly. “A bigger on the inside one. I just...couldn’t fit all my...stuff. In mine.”

“S’fine.”

After a long moment in which she waited for him to say something further, Rose swallowed again and offered him a tiny wave – a fruitless gesture being as he wasn’t even looking at her.

“See you then Doctor,” she said, her voice sounding tiny in the vast, empty space between them. Even the TARDIS’ hum seemed quieter than usual.

“Yeah.” The Doctor offered flatly as Rose made her slow way down the ramp and hesitated once more with her hand on the knob. Her hands trembled and she could have sworn that the Doctor’s eyes were boring into the back of her head but when she turned to him for the last time he was still staring at the grating.

She offered him an, “I’ll give you a call?” In a tone that held little promise and the Doctor nodded the tiniest bit to show that he’d heard her.

“Yeah.” He said again.

It was surprisingly easy – stepping outside. But the sound of the door squeaking shut behind her was enough to make the contents of Rose’s churning stomach bubble unpleasantly up into her throat to say hello. It could have been just like the thousand other times she’d stepped out of the TARDIS, but with all of her belongings heavy on her back and the sick anticipation of waiting for the sound of the ship disappearing behind her, the wind to begin blowing her hair as he left her behind, on her own instructions...

When it didn’t come she began to make her way up to her mum’s flat on wobbly legs, managing to get up a whole half a flight of stairs before she had to sit down and put her head between her knees, unable to bring herself to go any further.

She felt sick. Actually physically sick, her respiration quickening the way it does right before you start retching and have to try and breath in between bouts of bile forcing its way out of your throat. She tried to slow down her breathing but the sick feeling wouldn’t abate – not when she thought about the journey still ahead of her.

To finish the path to her mum’s flat or go crawling back to the TARDIS? That was the question.

Going back to her mum would mean that she really was leaving behind the most amazing part of her life so far. But going back would mean apologising to him, and hoping against hope that he’d let her stay regardless of her outburst. She knew that she’d been hard on him – knew that asking him to open up his hearts was as alien and terrifying to him as her keeping her feelings tucked away. But at the same time she couldn’t quite forgive him for not loving her when John so clearly had.

Paralysed, her thoughts a jumble, Rose stayed on the stairs for a whole five a half hours – until the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising echoed across the courtyard. Then, and only then, she finally managed to drag herself to her feet and stumble up the remaining distance to her mums flat.

The sick feeling was gone, replaced by a numbness she hadn’t felt since the terrifying day he had regenerated. But even that temporary peace was shattered when she found her mother waiting for her at the door with his coat. The Doctor’s Janis Joplin coat which she’d left in the flat that morning in all of her nerves and now was the only thing she had left of him apart from her TARDIS key and her bigger on the inside bag.

She put a hand against the lapel but didn’t take it, just drew her fingers into a fist around the suede and clutched tight. Later she supposed it was around then that her mother noticed the bag slung over her back and the other dangling from her free hand.

“Rose?” Jackie said uncertainly before hazarding a guess. “Is he coming back later for his coat then?”

And for the second time in less than a day, Rose crumbled wordlessly into her mother’s arms.

~*~

  
Her sunburn quickly developed into a glowing tan that baffled winter-white friends, neighbours and family members alike. Bored with the television before the first day was out, Rose took to helping out with her mums hairdressing clients or running down to Tesco’s for groceries when they ran out of milk or baked beans. She went out for chips and down to the pub for a few with Shareen and the girls, and Jackie gave her hair a much needed cut and a proper dye job.

Her bags stayed packed.

With the exception of course, of the Janis Joplin coat which she had hung up tenderly in her wardrobe like a hidden ghost. It wasn’t that she was waiting for him to come back and get it or anything. Although, knowing how much he loved the coat she was surprised she hadn’t woken up yet to find it gone – spirited away in the night when her guard was down.

He really was a no second chances kind of guy this time round though. Not that she wouldn’t have put it past him to just appear and disappear quietly without her even catching him. She imagined him everywhere, hiding on the fringes of her life, watching but never interfering. Planning heists and great escapes to get his coat back only to be caught in the act so that she could demand he take her back onboard the TARDIS...or beg for it, depending on the fantasy.

God, he hadn’t even come back for the bloody _coat_. And he loved that stupid piece of suede like a three year old with its binky...

No, she knew he wasn’t coming back. She really did.

But she was still dreaming about him – and John too just to make things even more complicated. But if she’d hoped that being on the slow path would help her to deal with it she had been horribly wrong. It was worse – so much worse without a hand to hold when she needed the comfort and adventures to help distract her. The grief manifested itself in the strangest of ways too – charging off after purse snatchers one minute and breaking down over a packet of silver cachous in the cake making section of the supermarket the next.

Jackie, resigned for the most part by her daughter’s behaviour, simply made endless cups of tea and watched her become more and more quietly miserable.

“You can’t keep doing this love,” she told her after more than three weeks had passed in the same, repetitive cycles of grief. “You need to talk to him.”

“If he wanted to see me he’d’ve come back,” Rose insisted stubbornly. “He’d’ve called. He’d’ve come back to get his stupid jacket...”

But Jackie’s quiet nagging eventually took its toll and she worked up the nerve to call him. When his voice boomed into her ear Rose stopped breathing momentarily before realising that it was just a bloody answering machine message – of all things. She hung up before it even finished playing, crushed, but her mother encouraged her to try again and leave a message if he didn’t answer.

The first one ended up being just a breathless, “Hi” followed by nothing more than Rose gulping in air and trying to get something, _anything_ out of her mouth before the message cut out. The second time she managed to leave something a bit more coherent, if rushed, asking him to call her back. The third was better again – a stammering mess maybe but at least she managed to articulate that she was game for an adventure if he happened to be in the neighbourhood.

Also, she still had his Janis Joplin coat. Just in case he was wondering where it had gotten to.

After the horrid awkwardness of the first three, the messages became more frequent and began to flow properly. She commented on his ridiculous answering machine message, berated him for not answering her (“I bet you’re listening to me leave these aren’t you?”), threatened to ring him every half an hour till he answered his phone and then rang up again to apologise for threatening him with something so stupid.

She soon turned to idle chatter about her mum and her friends and the rubbish that was on telly, focusing on the inane until even _she_ was bored of herself. In lieu of anything else to say, she tried to leave an apology for the way she’d acted the last time they’d spoken, but it ended with her hanging up in floods of tears, so humiliated that she retreated to her room and wouldn’t come out.

“Well if you’re not going to try and talk to him then at least do something!” Jackie finally snapped after two days, tipping Rose out of bed. “Get outside! Do something! I’m sick of seein’ this sad sack face of yours moping around the place.”

Rose didn’t even crack a smile. She did however, take her mother’s advice (after another days worth of quiet self flagellation and tears). She withdrew what little money she had remaining in her bank account and she went on an adventure. A proper one too – outside of London and everything.

It was the first time she’d ever travelled alone and at first Rose was excited to be striking out on her own. But as graffiti ridden trains and ancient wheezing busses yielded nothing but cold, unfriendly strangers unwilling to talk or even smile at her...

She kept on going to reach for the Doctor’s hand. Or turning to draw his attention to something she’d seen out of the window only to remember at the last moment that he wasn’t with her. The realisation that she was alone was like a slap to the face, each and every time.

The realisation that this must be what the whole universe felt like for the Doctor when he travelled alone? It cut even deeper than her melancholy and she began to grieve for him in a completely different way.

Luckily her destination was easy enough to find – even if the journey there was a bit long and rubbish without a TARDIS. The village was still there, albeit a bit bigger and more modernised than it had been back in Rose’s day. The school however had fallen prey to a fire not long after the Second World War and all that remained now was a large, charred out shell deemed unfit for habitation.

She had been dreaming about Farringham a lot since she’d come home, searching through the rooms for she didn’t know what. John had been conspicuously absent in her subconscious the last few days, maybe pushed aside by the aching loss of the Doctor who always seemed to linger just out of her reach.

The school however was a constant that she had latched onto gladly – especially after remembering how going back in time and meeting her dad had helped her to come to terms with his death. She couldn’t go back and see John again without the help of the TARDIS (and the Doctor probably wouldn’t have allowed it anyway, what with the risk of her creating a huge Paradox or mucking up her personal timeline) but she could certainly go to the place where she had spent most of her time with him.

And so she spent the better part of a day exploring her way through tumbledown buildings and hunting down some of her old haunts along the way. The field where they had often picnicked had a rollicking, half fallen down storage shed built in the middle of it, but the secluded clearing he had first tried to make love to her in was surprisingly easy to find and remarkably intact considering how much time had passed. The only real changes were in the height of the trees and the presence of a ramshackle little shelter built in one corner.

Doubtless a secret fort made by former students of the school, Rose picked her way through dented tin cups overgrown with wildflowers, a broken circle of rocks that could have once been a campfire and finally stumbled on a biscuit tin rusted shut with age. She spent the better part of five minutes trying to prise it open with bitten down nails and was not disappointed when she discovered a treasure trove of lost buttons, a postcard of a pin up girl from the forties and a small lead plane, the paint still intact.

The local librarian and history buff, a Mr. Gregory, was beyond delighted when she presented him with her treasures. A tall, stooped man who had actually been in one of the last classes to graduate from the school, he was also more than happy to pull out every book and artefact he had about Farringham for her.

“You say your great grandmother was the librarian?” he queried, frantically flipping through his large collection of books and files.

“For a little bit yeah,” Rose said, carefully sifting through a stack of old photographs, mainly of the grounds and buildings, though there were a few with pictures of students in class. She recognised a few faces, blurred with time though they were. She wondered vaguely what they were doing now – those boys. How many of them were still even alive? Was Timothy Lattimer still going to Remembrance Day ceremonies somewhere – his bright brown eyes wearied with time and the fantastical story of the Doctor just a memory?

Her musings were interrupted by Mr. Gregory passing her a book opened to a glossy page of photographs. “Late 1913 you said?” he said, sounding rather pleased with himself. “Here they are, here. Professor and Mrs John Smith.”

He pointed to the photograph and for a moment Rose was completely disorientated as she stared down at it. She didn’t even remember it being taken at first – a shot of all of the staff standing out the front of the school. There in fuzzy sepia was Joan and Ratcliff, Rocastle in his mortarboard. John in his bow tie and tweed was standing behind Rose, so serious in all of her uncomfortably fine clothes.

And there, John’s hand, resting innocuously on her shoulder. She suddenly remembered, with a rush of clarity, turning around at his touch and smiling nervously at him before the photographer called for their attention. She remembered his small smile in return and the way he had squeezed her shoulder as the bulb flashed, capturing their image forever...

A tissue appeared next to her hand and she startled, only just realising that she was crying.

“It can be a bit overwhelming can’t it?” Mr. Gregory said kindly as Rose mopped her face up and then blew her nose. “Looking back?”

“Yeah,” she agreed hollowly. Then, “Can I get a copy of this?”

“Oh, the picture? Certainly.” Mr. Gregory headed for his ancient photocopier and soon returned with a slightly skewed copy of the page in question. “I imagine you don’t have many photographs of her left?” he guessed as Rose took the paper with a shaking hand.

“No,” she said quietly. “None.”

 _Of both of them_ , she added silently. But Mr. Gregory was speaking again.

“It’s important to look back sometimes I think,” he was telling her as he gently replaced the books and photographs to their rightful place. “To make sure we don’t forget where we came from. Don’t you agree? Very cathartic.”

Rose could do nothing but nod and quietly take another tissue before leaving, thanking him once again for all of his help.

The photograph stayed folded in the pocket of her hoodie as she walked down the main street towards the bus port that would carry her back to London. Much of the village was untouched since she had last walked down this street, but here and there she could still see the lingering remains of the destruction brought on by the Family – houses that had obviously been destroyed or damaged and now rebuilt or renovated. Empty garden beds with evil looking black soil where nothing could grow. The town hall, long since renovated and extended – the roof replaced where she had blasted it down...

Maybe the grief would never really go away, she reflected as she waited in the cold for a connecting bus to take her back to London. If ninety odd years couldn’t completely patch up the destruction of the Family in a village then how would time ever be able to heal her? Her hands grew cold, skin rubbing against skin in a vain attempt to keep the circulation going.

Latently, she wished she’d brought his coat with her. It was far too big and it would’ve dragged behind her, but it was toasty warm and the pockets were always full of fascinating bits of paraphernalia that she could have asked him...

Unthinkingly, Rose slid her hands inside the fleecy pocket of her hoodie and her fingers curled around the half forgotten photocopy.

The piece of paper flapped and crackled in the sharp breeze when she pulled it out. And, for the first time since she’d come home Rose didn’t wonder whether the Doctor was missing her too. She thought instead of all the times he’d told her that he couldn’t ever look back, how much it hurt to talk about loss and pain. How much easier it was to just let go of the past and move on...

How it was easier to distance yourself from the people you loved, to stop it from hurting quite so much when you eventually lost them.

But with the sharp folds of the paper pressing against her skin and her quiet tears smudging the cheap ink, Rose couldn’t help but shake her head at him.

“You’re wrong,” she murmured aloud. “S’not.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/37167484732/in/album-72157686374544840/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/37167485112/in/album-72157686374544840/)

  
She left him six consecutive messages when she got home that night telling him all about the school burning down and the treasures she’d found in the tumbledown fort. She explained the geography of the expanded village and all about Mr. Gregory’s books and the photocopy she’d been given of the old photograph.

She told him that she felt better for having gone back there – the next best thing to using the TARDIS to sneak back and cross her own timeline to see him and say goodbye. Never fear, she’d learned her lesson last time and wasn’t going to be doing any more of that thanks very much.

The next morning the first thing she did was head down to the library and find a dictionary so that she could look up what ‘cathartic’ meant. She then left another message for him proudly proclaiming that not only had she gone and learnt a new word on her own volition, she could also recite the dictionary definition of it by heart.

It was so much easier talking to him like this, not having to deal with his uncomfortable shifting about or trying to change the conversation all the time. It was almost cathartic, she joked, knowing that he’d smile at her trying to incorporate the new word into her vocabulary. Like having a diary or journal where she could say anything she wanted to. It was comforting too, to think that he was listening – even if he wasn’t exactly responding.

For a week after her visit to Farringham she left messages nearly every day – sometimes three or four if she found something interesting she wanted to tell him. As time went on though and there was still no response she left a rambling, one sided conversation wondering if his answering machine was broken and he hadn’t been receiving any of her messages at all.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to talk to her or see her (or get his coat back – she really had thought he was fonder of that coat than he was letting on at the moment!). The thought had crossed her mind more than once you see, and she’d mentioned it a few times in her messages but after so many days and she still hadn’t heard anything back from him...

_Hallo! This is the Doctor speaking. ‘Fraid I’m not in at the moment but feel free to leave a message if you like. I’m probably off...battling...I dunno bog monsters or something. Anyway. Hopefully the answering machine works! It is a bit rubbish at times. Right. How do I finish up th-BLEEEEP._

“Not sure why I’m still leaving these,” she began her final message to him after a brief pause. “It’s been weeks now and you still haven’t turned up. I guess...I kinda hoped that you meant it when you said you’d never leave me behind. Not that you left me behind, I _asked_ but...sorry. Don’t know why’m crying. Anyways! I’m still, you know. Here. I’d love to see you sometime if you’re going past. I’ve still got your coat too. Just so you know. Miss you.”

She finished up the call and then settled back into the couch, letting the phone rest against her lower lip for a moment. Beside her, Jackie was absorbed in _The Time Travellers Wife_ but she looked up immediately when her daughter spoke.

“He’s not coming back – is he?”

Jackie was silent as she marked her page and set the book aside resignedly.

“I’ve really done it,” Rose continued bleakly, absently clinking her phone against her teeth. “I’ve blown it – haven’t I? He really, _really_ isn’t coming back for me.”

In lieu of anything else that she could possibly do to make this better, Jackie folded her daughter into her side for a hug. “Oh sweetheart,” she sighed, beginning to stroke Rose’s hair. “He’s probably just gotten lost. Or distracted. Or he’s overshot and he’ll turn up Tuesday week without even realising he’s late.”

Rose trembled under her mother’s touch. “What if he’s hurt?”

“Rose...”

“What if he’s travelling all alone an’ he’s got hurt an’ he can’t...” Rose broke off abruptly and resumed her agitated gnawing on the corner of her phone. Jackie carefully prised the device from between her daughter’s fingers and set it aside before resuming her cuddling. “I never shoulda left him mum. If something’s happened to him...”

“He’s a big boy Rose, he can take care of himself...”

“But he can’t,” Rose insisted, pulling out of her mother’s embrace, her face bleak. “Why d’you think he brings people with him mum? He’s so...an’ I just _left_ him...” she shook her head and then propped her elbows up on her knees. “He’s never gonna forgive me. I _promised_...”

She swiped at her cheeks and then covered her mouth for a long moment. When that didn’t abate her trembling, she cradled her face between her palms and squeezed so hard that she could feel the blood throbbing in her temples. Beside her, Jackie shuffled in closer and leant up against her daughter, the warm weight of her reassuring and quiet and everything that Rose didn’t want right now.

She ached for the loss of thin limbs and soft hair. The restless thrum of energy he always seemed to exude, even when he was sitting completely still. His hand against hers, their lifelines pressed tight as they ran.

She thought that she had missed him when she’d been on the slow path with John. Now, she missed him even more than she had thought possible. More than that, she ached with the kind of understanding that only comes from loss. She was beginning to understand now, more clearly than she ever had before, why he couldn’t let himself love her. And more than anything she wanted to be able to show him that she understood and she forgave him and she still wanted to travel with him anyway.

Who better to help take away the edge of loneliness than somebody else who had known loss?

With a final soft sob, Rose closed her eyes and leaned back into her mother.

~*~

  
That night Rose dreamed of the TARDIS. _She was chasing the Doctor through the corridors, following the sound of his laughter but never quite managing to catch a full glimpse of him. A flash of pinstripes, a quiet giggle – all leading her to the seemingly empty console room. And then without warning came the wheezing, roaring sound of the engines as he launched them across the universe._

_Rose jolted, losing her footing on the grating as the ship rocked. And as she stumbled she nearly fell..._

Out of bed. Her old bed, half empty in her old room in her mum’s flat. Heart racing she catalogued the dark outlines of furniture, the dull grey light spilling from the window, the unmistakable sound of the TARDIS engines still echoing from her dream...

Still echoing. _Still_ echoing.

_Still._

Rose bolted out of bed.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On January 12th 2010 I started posting a WIP fan fiction tentatively titled “The Art of Being Human”. I got nineteen or so reviews for it. The final chapter, posted a couple of weeks back has had at least thirty-six commenter’s and I have absolutely no clue how many this epilogue will get.
> 
> Not many of you know this, but AoBH has actually been in the works since before **February of 2009**. No I am not even kidding. I don’t actually even remember when I first thought up the idea but I wrote the majority of it during 2009. Due to various craziness at university and with life I refused to post it until I was happy with it so I posted a bunch of chapters in quick succession, then decided to do some major rewrites and basically went on hiatus. Posted a bunch more chapters, went on hiatus. Posted a bunch of chapters and went on hiatus again...some of you may remember those days :P but!
> 
> More than two years from that first posting it’s finished. It’s done. All 80,000+ odd words of it. And I am forever indebted to those who have read, reviewed, recced, lurked, given me concrit, flailed, cried, laughed, offered meta, didn’t hate me after I didn’t tell anyone there would be an epilogue after the evil cliff-hanger of doom in Chapter Eleven, forgave me for my [April Fools prank the other day](http://sapphire-child.livejournal.com/290737.html), had gigantic comment debates with me, poked me whenever I went on hiatus, [got me to write memes about the characters](http://sapphire-child.livejournal.com/285727.html?thread=2513951#t2513951)...everything. A huge, amazing thank you to all of you whether you’ve been there from the initial brainstorming days or you’ve read the whole thing in a matter of hours two days ago.
> 
> I set out to write a Human Nature/Family of Blood AU that was different to all the others I had read. Something that had depth to it and that had Rose out of her element as John’s wife and equal, not his maid. I hoped people would enjoy it, that I’d get a few laughs and a few tears along the way. What I got was so much more incredible and so much of it is thanks to you guys. Thank you for making this story amazing.
> 
> A special thank you to [](http://pacejunkie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://pacejunkie.livejournal.com/)**pacejunkie** who was there from the very, very beginning of this story’s inception and indeed, my advent into writing for Who – you are the amazingest.
> 
> And now before you read, please to be checking out my playlists for this verse! They are [here](http://community.livejournal.com/sapphicons/17126.html) and [here](http://community.livejournal.com/sapphicons/22476.html) at my icon journal. There is now also [fyeahartofbeinghuman](http://theartofbeinghuman.tumblr.com/) on tumblr on which there will be random graphics at random intervals. Feel free to go there and request your favourite scenes and I will try to graphic them for you :3
> 
> There will also (hopefully) be follow up fics. At some point. I hope. Lord help me you guys...
> 
> Thank you, again to all of you, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Much love, sapph

Rose had imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios during her time apart from the Doctor. That he’d get himself hurt and regenerate. Or come back after years and years had passed for him and hardly any time at all for her. Or that no time had passed for him and loads had for her. Or worst of all – that he’d’ve picked up a new companion and would just pop in to steal his coat before moving on again.

Regardless, the Janis Joplin coat was the first thing she took – cramming it hastily into her bag even as she barged out of the flat and threw herself up against the edge of the balcony. Somehow, miraculously, there was the TARDIS – big and blue and _wonderful_ – the light still flashing as she finished materialising.

A loud, “Hey!” exploded from her before she could stop herself and then she was bolting down the stairwell on concrete frozen feet, her breath coming in pants as she ran out into the courtyard at full pelt... She stopped dead at the sight of the Doctor.

For all the ways she’d imagined this moment playing out she’d never thought that she would find him leaning innocuously against the TARDIS, hands in his pockets, looking exactly the same as he had when she had left him.

For a moment she faltered, uncertainty making her feet and heart heavy. But then he smiled, a little crookedly. As though he’d really been waiting here all these weeks for her to come find him and she’d just somehow managed to miss him.

“Hello,” his voice was warm as treacle and Rose eagerly returned the greeting before suddenly frowning.

“M’not dreaming am I?” she wondered and when the Doctor’s face twisted into a silent question mark she helpfully added, “Only you’re not really a second chances sort of bloke...”

“Well,” he said, and Rose was delighted by the way his hand leapt up to his hair in something akin to embarrassment. “Luckily for you there’s only one person in the whole universe I just can’t say no to.”

They stood there for a long moment, silent and still, chests full to bursting. But then his eyes began to sparkle in earnest and his smile grew wider and she just couldn’t help but grin back at him. They stood there, metres and whole universes apart, and then the Doctor shifted his weight off the TARDIS and onto his feet and Rose ran forward, scattering bags in her wake and they were colliding in the most _fantastic_ hug...

“Oooh...I thought you weren’t coming!” she wrapped her arms python-tight around his neck as he lifted her right off her feet. His arms felt amazingly strong across her lower back, wiry and wonderfully familiar. “I thought-I thought you weren’t getting my messages...”

“What – all fifteen hundred of them?” the Doctor laughed against her ear and then squeezed her with renewed vigour, making an appreciative noise that warmed Rose right down to her frozen toes. “ _Oh_...of course I got them...”

“Why didn’t you come back then?” Rose asked, smile fading as she left his arms abruptly. The Doctor’s hands lingered on her waist a moment but at her impatient squirming they scuttled back to his pockets. “I must’ve asked you a hundred times...”

“Well,” he began, his hand leaping back up to ruffle his hair again. “Yes. About that. Erm. You see, I wanted to come back earlier but...thing is...well, trying to leave voicemail on a time machine...turns out to be easier in theory than in practice...” If he was stammering before, at Rose’s incredulous look he only became worse. “I mean,” he continued. “Well. Well first you’ve got to wait until the TARDIS stops long enough to intercept them, and then I couldn’t figure out how to listen to them anyway so I had to find the manual for it – turns out I’d actually thrown it in a supernova with the TARDIS manual about a hundred years ago...actually, maybe, it was closer to two hundred...? Anyway, so I had to go back to the place I got the machine from and borrow a manual only they wouldn’t let me so I had to get this bloke – Gerald his name was, Gerald! That’s right. And he showed me how to use it so then I had to go _back_ to the TARDIS...what’s so funny?”

“ _Doctor_ ,” Rose managed to gasp out between bursts of laughter. “You’re tellin’ me you couldn’t figure out an _answering machine_? Even my _mum_ knows how to use one!”

“I got it eventually!” he bleated and Rose couldn’t help but start laughing all over again at the absurdity of it. She’d been torturing herself for _weeks_ , wondering why he hadn’t come back. And all because he couldn’t work a flipping _answering machine_... “Oi! It just took a bit of time that’s all. And by then you’d already left all of your messages and I couldn’t very well just jump back in your timeline before you’d even finished leaving them...”

Rose’s laughter died very suddenly.

“Paradox,” she realised and she felt stupid for not realising it sooner. “You couldn’t go back to before I’d left them. You’d’ve messed up my timeline.”

“ _Big_ time,” the Doctor agreed, obviously relieved that she’d put two and two together. “Big, big, _big_ time. Going back on personal timelines is a very big no-no. Very, very bad. And I didn’t really want to make a bigger mess of this than I already – R-Rose are you wearing pyjamas?”

It took her a moment to process his final comment but when the penny dropped Rose glanced down, only just realising that in her haste to get downstairs she hadn’t even bothered to put on a pair of slippers or anything. She looked sheepishly up at him.

“Erm...yeah?” she admitted, and suddenly they were both giggling like a pair of right proper idiots.

“Well I suppose we’d better get you into some proper clothes then,” the Doctor decided, moving to retrieve one of the bags she had flung aside previously. “Not exactly appropriate attire for saving the universe, pyjamas. That said, first adventure I ever had in this body I was wearing Howards. You remember? Very dashing in stripes, this regeneration.” he paused by the door of the TARDIS to preen and Rose laughed at him. “What?”

“You’re so...” she shook her head at him fondly. “ _You_. S’like nothings even changed.”

The Doctor paused where he stood holding the door to the TARDIS open for her – an obvious invitation. And Rose, having retrieved her other bag suddenly felt a cold wash of fear overtake her excitement and the initial happiness she had felt at seeing him again.

He had listened to her messages. _All_ of them. And he had come back for her, was offering her a place on the TARDIS without any hesitation whatsoever after all the things she’d said and done to hurt their friendship and it was what she _wanted_. More than anything it was what she wanted. But she couldn’t just go running back into the TARDIS after everything that had happened between them without acknowledging it first.

She was tired of pretending that things didn’t matter to her.

“Before we go anywhere...” Rose began and then hesitated, waiting for the Doctor’s reaction before she continued. His eyebrows lifted a little in surprise but he looked expectant rather than alarmed and so he quickly pressed on before she lost her nerve. “I told you about how I went back to Farringham and met Mr. Gregory an’...well he said something that really stuck with me, about how it’s good to look back an’ remember. Cos it’s important to know where you’ve come from. Say goodbye to your old life when it changes...”

The Doctor was inscrutable but remarkably intent when she paused once again to gauge how he was taking it all. Rose bit her lip, honestly a bit humbled by his attention, before pressing on.

“Look,” she continued. “Point is, I don’t reckon you gave me much of a chance to say goodbye to John. And Farringham too I guess. S’not your fault, I know it’s not how you do things. But...I kind of needed to say goodbye properly you know? I mean, I’ve figured out I’m not gonna stop missing him overnight. I’ll never really forget him, but...”

She chanced another searching look at the Doctor as she desperately tried to figure out where she was going with this. He looked a little uncertain but he was still nodding along. More to the point, he was _listening_. He wasn’t running into the TARDIS or babbling or trying to cover up the awkwardness of the conversation.

He was standing still. For _her_.

“I sort of started saying goodbye already,” she continued, voice cracking a little under the strain. She’d never really been this honest with the Doctor, and despite his calm front she still felt like she was treading on eggshells. “Going back to Farringham and everything. But there’s some other stuff I-I wanted to...to...”

She broke off abruptly, all of her previous nerve suddenly gone and she found herself frozen in a prolonged moment of absolute terror. She was pushing too far, too fast. She was going to scare him off. He was going to get back inside the TARDIS any second and leave her behind for good...

And then...

“Rose?” the Doctor pressed gently. “You wanted to...?”

“I want...” she paused to contemplate it properly for the first time, the possibilities opening like so many flowers in her mind. When she finally spoke, it was with decisiveness and strength. “Okay first I wanna say sorry for all the things I said when...no, just shh!” she all but jumped on him when he looked like he might interrupt. “Just for a minute yeah? I need to get this said – alright?”

The Doctor held his hands up in mock surrender before pretending to zip his mouth shut. Relieved, Rose took a deep mental breath before plunging back in.

“I get it you know,” she began, studiously not looking him in the eye. “Why you can’t...why you won’t...oh you know. I mean, it’s not like you don’t care, s’just...you don’t feel things the same way I do. And that’s fine. Really. I mean – you’re alien! You’re an alien from outer space and I honestly just forget sometimes, so...sorry for that. It’s funny. I spent all that time with John wishing he was more like you...and now I want you to be like him...god, I’d go _mental_ if you did that to me. It wasn’t fair. Expecting you to be human. And knowing why I was upset when I wouldn’t even talk to you. I’m not gonna do that anymore. Look...

“We need to stop pretending things don’t matter to us when they actually do. Cos otherwise what’s the point? We can pretend things are fine but if they’re not we might as well not be together at all. And I wanna be with you – I wanna travel. But not cos I want to forget. Cos I wanna _remember_.”

The Doctor gazed at her for a long time as Rose shivered in her daggy old flannel pyjamas in the courtyard of the Powell Estate. And then he nodded.

“You’ve grown up.” He observed softly and Rose’s first reaction was to flinch, unsure what he was implying.

“Had to happen sooner or later,” she said weakly.

“No but look at you,” the Doctor said, and he sounded so damned _proud_. “You’re brilliant.”

Rose glowed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure but stood her ground regardless. She hadn’t just blurted all of that out for it to get swept under the rug again. “No more pretending.” she requested firmly.

“No more,” the Doctor agreed, holding out a long, thin hand towards her. “Promise.”

Rose hesitated only a moment longer before she stepped forward. As she came to the door she took his outstretched hand and his fingers tightened immediately around hers. Stepping through the door to the TARDIS hand in hand with her Doctor, she suddenly felt so light that she didn’t even feel the grating digging into her bare feet.

“Where to first then?” he asked, dumping her bags casually on the jump seat as he circled the console. “The singing fields of Elysium Six? The Intergalactic Zoo of Non-Sentient Reptiles? Paris in 1323? _Or_...”

“Actually,” Rose said, gingerly catching his wrist as he passed her. “I’ve got a request.”

“Really?” the Doctor paused in his mad dash around the console and turned to face her. “Well. Request away.”

Rose took a deep breath and looked down, taking hold of his other wrist as well and rubbing nervous circles over the inside of them both as she spoke. With his double pulse thudding coolly against her fingertips it was arguably the most intimate way she had touched him since he had come back and she was beyond relieved that it didn’t feel awkward.

“I wanna do Christmas.” She said finally. “For John.”

The Doctor’s face immediately scrunched up and Rose’s heart dropped until he responded with a somewhat aghast, “What, jump ahead and do next Christmas with your mother?”

He looked horrified at the idea and Rose shook her head, laughing out her relief. “He didn’t want to spend Christmas with mum. Just me. I figure, you’re the closest thing I’ve got to John...”

At the look on his face Rose’s heart briefly seized up again and she was terrified that she had said the completely wrong thing and hurt him again. But then the Doctor nodded his acquiescence and began piloting.

He chatted to her as he flew the TARDIS to their destination, Rose pawing through her bags to find something appropriate to wear. It was almost like old times, she thought wryly as he bounded towards the door, glancing back only once to ensure that she was following. As he passed the coral strut by the ramp he absently reached out for his coat. Following so close behind him, Rose couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of the habit and the dejected slant of his shoulders once he realised it wasn’t there.

“Rose...” he began, turning to her but his eyes lit up when he saw that she was already one step ahead of him. “My coat!”

Grinning, Rose held it out for him and laughed out loud at the barely suppressed delight with which he took it from her – immediately slipping his narrow shoulders into it and preening like a cat being petted. “Oh...I missed this coat!”

“I missed _you_.” Rose told him as she drew level with him. The Doctor stilled, gazing down at her with the tiniest, proudest smile.

“Quite right too,” he returned and she whacked him on the shoulder out of principle (but she was still smiling because his voice had been so gentle that she couldn’t help but think that it was the closest thing she was going to get to an, _I missed you too_ ).

The place they had landed looked like any old street on Earth and Rose couldn’t help but feel puzzled at the lack of Christmas decorations. Poking through the wares of the tiny corner shop the Doctor dragged her into and waiting for the penny to drop, she discovered a display of paper poppies and felt a wave of disappointment.

“Definitely not Christmas,” she muttered, knowing that she should have expected him to get it wrong. “Oi,” she said, bounding up to where the Doctor was busily donating a few scraps of obviously alien change in exchange for two of the brooches. “What are we doing in _November_?” she demanded. “Doctor? It’s Remembrance Day.”

“Just a pit stop,” the Doctor said smoothly as he herded her out of the shop. “It’s on the way to Christmas. Linearly speaking anyway.”

“Whatever,” Rose grumbled. “After this we’re _doing Christmas_.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, flapping a hand impatiently at her. “Don’t panic. I meant to land us here.”

“Yeah sure you did,” Rose sighed but she followed him anyway, down the road and then a left turn, then another left until they were stopping at a rather unremarkable stretch of residential housing, interrupted only by a small park. The Doctor produced the pins from a coat pocket and held them out to her. Rose rolled her eyes as she took them, carefully attaching one to the lapel of his coat.

“So,” she said, pinning the second one onto her own jacket. “You ready to tell me why we’re here? N’why we’re wearing poppies?”

“So you can remember,” the Doctor nodded his head at the grassy square in front of them – it was a war memorial she realised. He’d brought her to a war memorial on Remembrance Day. Wondering if this was just the Doctor’s idea of a clever pun, Rose turned to ask but was distracted by the ceremony that they had wandered into.

At the very front of a bunch of military personnel in uniform were three old men – war vets. Two of them were standing but the third was huddled in a wheelchair, an impressive row of service medals across his chest and – Rose was surprised to note, his dark gaze fixed on her and the Doctor. For a moment her heart leapt before realising that the old man didn’t look remotely like John. But when she caught the bright brown eyes, sad and hopeful and gentle all at once she suddenly understood.

Through a haze of tears, Rose smiled and waved to Timothy Lattimer.

“He survived the war,” the Doctor informed her quietly. “Got married. Had children. Grandchildren. Even a few great grandkids on the way now. And he still carries his old fob watch with him everywhere he goes – a gift from a long, long time ago.”

And sure enough, there it was. A flash of silver – tarnished now but distinctive even from so far away. Rose’s tears doubled as she stared at the watch, held reverently in Tim’s gloved hand. The last connection she had to John apart from a hastily folded photocopy and her own memories.

“Funny thing, that watch,” the Doctor continued and she realised that somehow, while he’d been speaking, he had slipped his hand into hers natural as anything. “It never needs winding up. Never breaks. Just keeps ticking on. Bit like me really.”

Rose looked from the watch to the Doctor, but he wasn’t looking back at her, nor at Timothy. Instead, he was looking at his own feet.

“I’m sorry.”

He all but blurted it out and Rose baulked at this unexpected turn of events. The Doctor? Apologising? “What for?”

“You’re normally so good at dealing with change,” the Doctor admitted, brow creasing as he stared down at his trainers. “I never even thought you might need...I mean you got through my regeneration alright, hardly even batted an eyelid at all of that...” Rose squeezed his hand and his babbling stopped abruptly. He paused and then leant his shoulder against hers. “I’m sorry Rose. For being too thick to realise that all you needed was a little bit of time. Especially when it’s the one thing I’ve got in spades, me being a Time Lord and all...”

Rose abruptly leant up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek, effectively silencing him. The Doctor blinked at her touch, emerging slowly from his stupor to gaze at her.

“S’alright,” Rose conceded, squeezing his hand again. “I know Doctor. You don’t need to say it.”

She had rarely seen the Doctor look so grateful in all the time they had travelled together. All of the worry in his face seemed to fall away and he rushed into the kind of impromptu embrace they hadn’t shared in a long, long time. Squeezing him back just as hard, Rose felt content for the first time in months.

And somewhere, amongst the trinkets and rubber bands filling the Doctor’s bigger-on-the-inside pockets rested an innocuous brown book filled to the brim with the scrawl of a man who loved her.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/36502431104/in/album-72157686374544840/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Art of Being Human [Fanmix]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12573692) by [sapphire_child](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child)




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